My Guardian Compton Anjel
by xXxJazzy B. RealxXx
Summary: How do you learn to open your eyes to what the world has to offer after that very world has ripped smiles right off your bloodstained face? Riley, an adult thug empty from reality, finds this lesson in a chance encounter with a murderer.
1. Thug's False Sanctuary of Corruption PT1

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own the cast of The Boondocks._

_I own Anjelika Smith (popular to DA), and the many thugs involved in this small tale EXCEPT for T-Pain, The Game, and Tanker (since they will be mentioned)—those belong to the talented and former-writing partner **Skystalker**. _

_This story was inspired from Skystalker's "**Gangster's Paradise**" that basically continues based off the events that occurred. If you'd like to read that fic before reading this tale, please ask her._

_**Summary to Skystalker's Gangster's Paradise: **__Riley is now a 20 year old Thug in the now tainted streets of Woodcrest. He experiences the REAL thug life, and has lived it for some time now. He experiences the thrill of gunfights, and the heartache of a fallen soldier dying before his eyes. He soon learns that the thug life works in one way: Once you're in, you can never get out._

_In the end of that fiction, his entire crew is killed by the biggest gangster who owns Woodcrest, "T-Pain"._

_This right here, is a very old story of mine. The question is - should I finish to unravel the main events? _

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**Chapter One: A Thug's False Sanctuary of CoRrUpTiOn**

_**Riley Escobar's Commentary, "Too Far Into the Game"**_

_Joyrides._

_Drivebys._

_Robbery._

_Hustlin'. _

_Nothin' could top the thrill an' excitement of that shit._

_NOTHIN', so don't convince me otha' wise. I could care less about your hyped up opinion on how fun it is to rape hoes and your baby sister._

_Then came the gang-wars._

_Then came my very first time when I had to shoot an unarmed nigga between tha' eyes._

_When you bout ta' kill a nigga, I'd expect hate, loathe, anger, revenge, failure, whatever, ta' be in they eyes._

_But my first target didn't have that in his eyes - they were clouded by fear, plea, regret, sadness..._

_Thug life was all real coo' ta' me._

_I had a crew that was like a second family ta' me and despite being a gang crew, was a good influence on me._

_Fo' me, the purpose was fun an' games. _

_Ta' them, the purpose was ta' survive. _

_I always wondered why the fuck they would be havin' these serious ass looks on they face while I was always grinnin'._

_I finally got why..._

_When it was too late, and my second family was gone like Granddad. _

_Nowadays…It's like a steady and naggin' question that kept slippin' from the mouths of those who were so damn concerned about me and the way I ran mah lifestyle…_

"Why do you continue to live this life after all the emotional and physical torture when you know you'll be dead in a few years?" - _you say?_

_'Cuz I already chose this path, and once you step foot onto the quick sand, you ain't gon' be able ta' turn back, THAT'S why. _

_What? _

_You also think it's THAT easy ta turn back 'roun' and walk outta the shit hole of the game? _

_Well it ain't, jus' to yo' surprise. _

_You can't jus' cry out, "I QUIT!" in the middle of a thug wars battle to let all yo' enemies know you through wit it all. _

_Like they even give a **shit. **_

_If yo' name had already spread around the city like one of 'dem plagues, and you've had haters in the past and present, then there will always be niggas stalkin' you throughout yo' lifespan from there on. _

_So you survive the assaults here an' there, good for you. Thas' aiight, you'll be dead the next month probably. _

_So you see, it follows you even if you drop the pistol. I'd rather have a pistol and not need it rather than not a have a pistol and need it. Then again, there will always be a time my fingers will need to be strapped aroun' the handle of one._

'Don't flush yo' life away, son…step away from the bowl.'

_Whateva…I get it. _

_But it's too bad I was already down the drain of that bowl 'dough, huh?_

_Good friends, no, best friends you could say, die aroun' me each and every single god damn day. Niggas I don't even know I felt that wrench of remorse for…niggas I'VE ended lives of. But I'm heedin' the thug rule when it comes to the merciless streets: There ain't no time or room fo' prolonged sorrow and mope, fo' every second is a tickin' time bomb. I've killed a lotta niggas, and as time goes on…fo' now at the age of twenty, I've become so immune to it, I'm incapable of anymore repentance._

_Shit, man…this bull seemed so dope back when I was eight, and I didn't even live a PORTION of what I dreamt of bein'. _

_I can barely lift even a humored smirk on mah face thanks to all the most recent shit that's been poppin'._

_I've already spun the wheel of fortune, and instead of "gettin' rich and gettin' bitches", I got death road, "DING! DING! DING! DING! DING!" _

_Teh, it don't matta…as a thug, I won't be goin' down wit'out a drawn-out fight. Riley Escobar ain't the nigga ta' quit!_

_People who get a sliver of mah personality or lifestyle always say they "pray for me", and tell me I mus' have some type of Guardian Angel by mah side to be livin' this long wit'out a tampered mentality of trauma. Psh, jus' some ol' Christian bullshit…_

_The silver linin' is…don't worry 'bout me. I'm sick and tired of everyone's pity and sympathy without true empathy. I can take care of mah damned self, and don't need no "Guardian Angel" or "luck" to watch ova me!_

**_End of Riley Escobar's Commentary_ **

**Location: Woodcrest (St. Crenshaw Blvd)**

Dogs barked. Kittens mewed. Crows cawed. Underaged children played with pistols in the alley.

A pair of scampering boots splashed in the puddle of a homeless boy's pee as wheezes rasped from the runner's lost breath.

Seconds later, husky grunts and a stampede of footsteps pursued.

"Blast dis motherfucka, man! C'mon, niggas! Stop motherfuckin' slackin' and get 'im! 'dis bitch-ass motherfucka up!"

The many hurried feet tailed after the lone scurries of a single man. Whizzing bullets sung through the tapered alley passage and only thundering trashcans were heard rather than the expectant yowl or grunt.

The victim caught in this situation made a sharp and edgy turn that nearly caused his foot to slip. His fingers clutched onto a brown bag and caressed it to his side for safety, the man himself being hooded.

The five black men that had been on his trail maneuvered the brusque turn as well.

The runner's green eye peered past his shoulder to see his chasers gaining on him.

His teeth grinded and his face squinted up. His sprints became harder dashes and his breathes became harsher pants. His body bashed into the line up of trashcans as more booms rumbled from the crashing and clashing metals, but eventually he found his balance with a few ducks while bullets zoomed past him. With another quick veer, he flung himself behind a wall, pressed his back against its cold brick, and panted through his nostrils.

Oblivious, the thugs stumbled right past his wall of shelter, all hollering at each other to find their convict and murder him for the item that had been stolen.

The hooded runner peeked out from behind this wall, chocolate eyebrows creased down on his forehead and his hazel eyes hysterically scanning his unlit surroundings. The only sound he could hear was his lungs hoarsening out of breath. He stayed where he was until the usual police sirens passed.

Having a red line of drawn blood that had neatly sliced his cheek, the runner's eyebrows frowned backwards against to emphasize a slow 'whew' of relief. The coast was surely clear now after the long wait.

As time progressed, the man sauntered into the open streets with his hands protecting the stash and the hood's shadow making his face seem mysterious.

Eventually, he stopped before a wretched small house; the old pastel pink paint had lost its color, the front yard's lawn was yellow with thirsty dirt and shaking weeds, the row of rusted tricycles were parked beside broken swings, and the malnourished pitbull limping in the backyard completed its "decoration".

The man raised his eyes in consideration of the puny house on the block, keeping the same stuck scowl for his expression. He pushed open the screechy gate and stepped onto the bloodstained porch while the dog barked and whimpered at him through an arid throat. Raising his fist, he knocked on the screen door. Ever so often his eyes would run back and forth to the streets as if expecting danger to find his whereabouts.

The creak of a door's hinge brought him back to his present priority. Standing in front of him was a short preteen with slightly darker skin, who had frizzy black cornrows and honey eyes, and a grin too big for his face.

"Wassup, Esco?! Whas 'hood', G-Dog?" the obviously younger boy held out his hand for a particular handshake and shoulder-bump, but the older man didn't comply.

"Yeah Wassup, Yohansi (Yo-hon-see)." The visitor replied solemnly, glancing into the house some. "Aye, yo' brotha Kenyon aroun'?"

Yohansi's former grin faded into a puckered lip. "Naw, naw, he out wit his girl, man. He be back 'dough in a lil' bit. Want me ta tell 'im you came by?"

The older man's cheeks inflated with a held-in cough. "S'aiight, nigga. I'ma stick aroun' till he get back if thas coo' wit chu. Yo mama ain't home, right?"

"Naw man, she out on the heroin sellin' dope wit Pops, man." Yohansi laughed and bobbed his chin at him. "Why you standin' out here with that hood lookin' like an old ass pervert? C'mon inside, Esco!" He side-stepped so his visitor could enter.

With a sniff, the older male stepped foot onto the carpet, which was splotched with beer. Once the man was inside, he lowered his hood to reveal his own scalp of cornrows, though being coffee brown instead of pitch black. He had three or four ear piercings in both ears, but only one earlobe was accompanied by a diamond stud earring. He took off his ripped bulky black jacket and tossed it across the sofa. His bulging biceps the color of caramel were marked by various scars and bullet wounds exposed to the chilly air since he wore a plain white tank top and a pair of stolen "True Religions" that had suffered many rips and much abuse.

"Want an Ides or some shit, Riley?" Yohansi asked as if to serve him, kicking aside broken glass of alcohol bottles from his parents' waste.

The couch's weight sunk as Riley plopped into it, "I'm straight, lil' man…don't worry bout it."

This was surely the result of twenty year old Riley Freeman, a.k.a. Riley Escobar: tall, muscular, alluring. But he had changed from the small eight year old boy in mentality also.

Yohansi blinked some when he noticed his idol paying special attention to his cheek. "Yo, you okay, man?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine…" Riley shut one eye shut due to the savage sting from the cut on his face.

"…If you say so, Esco…" a sudden perky smile was glued to Yohansi's face. "—Aye! We should go shootin' niggas up ta'day, Esco! C'mon, jus' you an' me! We could go rob some "Columbian drug-lords", OOH! Or betta, go pick up some BITCHES!" the boy waited eagerly for his answer, expecting his deity to agree.

Riley looked up into the ignorant youth's eyes, a glare marking its territory on his face this time. "Screw that shit. I JUS' came from beefin' wit niggas out in the streets, so I ain't tryna start no mo' shit ta'day. 'Sides, you know I don't ride on hoes in rodeo shows."

"Aww, nigga…" Yohansi pouted. "Thas right, I fo'got youz a virgin."

Riley's face twitched. "SO?! You DAMN well know I ain't got tha' TIME ta' fuck when every damn second a nigga's tryna BLAST MAH EYES OUT. You got a problem wit' how I do things?!"

Yohansi lifted both palms defensively, feeling the shiver down his spine from making him even somewhat angry. "N-Naw, Esco, I-I'm coo' wit it!"

Escobar kept the firm glare until finally "psh"-ing it off and directing his anger somewhere else. "Yeah, whateva lil' nigga…here's yo' shit by tha way." He tossed him the bag he had been carrying earlier.

Yohansi squinted hesitantly and rummaged around in the bag. When he grasped the object and pulled it out, Riley couldn't help but compare Yohansi's grin to his when he was eight years old.

"No fuckin' way! This is the shit mah brotha gave ta me!" Yohansi dangled the pure-diamond scorpion medallion with a few signatures of graffiti engraved on its from universal gangs. Snake Eye and his boys stole this shit from me awhile ago! Aw thanks, Escobar!" he threw his arms around Riley's neck and closed his eyes tightly to express his happiness.

"ACK! Aiight, aiight! Yo' welcome, lil' nigg'! Jus' stop stranglin' me!" Riley pried the misled youth off of him. "I knew you loved that shit, but damn, Yohansi…gotta hug me too? I been through enough torture already!" he exclaimed with a taint of humor in his deep tone.

"Oh yeah, right, right…" Yohansi nodded with his eyes facing the stained carpets, clearing embarrassment from his throat. "S-So, uh…anyway…" he staggered into the kitchen, shoving the medallion into another plastic bag he retrieved from the cabinet, which slightly caught Riley's attention before it had been stashed under the sink. "Eva heard bout the talk of the streets?"

Riley began to tend to the bloodied bruise on his cheek with a cotton ball of alcohol, "B-Be mo' specific."

Yohansi leaned up on his very tippy-toes to stretch out his hand to something within the same cabinet. "Satan's Compton Anjel? They call her that because her dad was a major Smith and a maniac of a gang-banger, but he was obsessed about her, and she had spent most of her life down in Compton."

"...Wait, what chu mean by 'major Smith'?"

"A major Smith! Y'know! He part of the Smith Family! They a black mafia that goes waaay back; had settled mainly in Italy but had fucked around with the Spainard royal bitches? They make everybody call them 'Your Majesty' an' shit till this day? Mafias and Hoods got 'em on they most wanted list: 'a thousand bucks for the head of a Smith'." He murmured; slightly muffled behind the fabric of his outstretched arm as his fingers searched blindly into the dishes-less cabinet. "All their babies usually come out to be boys because they usually slit the throat of any female newborns, so I don't know why she not dead. Wit' all her heart she really believes she's royalty. Like, in a delusional kinda way. From what I hear, she's got a mental issue."

Carelessly, and after a wince, "Naw, neva heard of 'em."

"Well, Miguel Smith, the Compton chick's father, was a gang-banger who secluded himself from the Smith Mafia, and his damn daughter is fuckin' wit' Woodcrest now. She left Compton a while back, and even though she don't bang, she used to hook up with some important niggas from important gangs up in Compton."

"Hook up?"

"Yeah, hook up. Girlfriend-boyfriend, friends with benefits, whatever. These important niggas were murdered by her, 'dough. It was usually a knife, a broken beer bottle, a metal rod, a bat, razors.... She even got somebody to hang Miguel's dead body like a Christmas star on the phone pole for Compton ta' see."

Now Escobar blinked in a hint of disbelief at this. "All this done by a CHICK?"

"Thas what I said, right? I don't know the story to all that shit either, but according to niggas on the block, they say she a bonafided cold-hearted bitch who a lotta niggas are out to behead or put a bullet through just cuz of that. Thas' insultin', too. The most powerful dudes gettin' ripped of life by a seducing CHICK? Now that she's here, everyone thinks she's really just an errand-girl of the Smith family, using her manipulation or superficial charm to win the hard-ass niggas over so she can assassinate them by orders of her family. Funny part is ain't nobody really know what she look like. To me, that sounds stupid as fuck. I mean, this ain't the fuckin' government. She prolly just paranoid and carries a gun wit' her all the time. Maybe she killed them niggas because she jus' psycho or maybe they tried to rape her. They weren't decent niggas, after all. Miguel especially. The Smith Family hated him, too. I heard he raped her a lot from childhood to teens, and I think she low-key is drawn to niggas that treat her fucked up like he did, so now it's an on goin' process."

A sharp and evident light flashed against Riley's orbs to detect his astounded curio of this new information just in case she was moving in to commit homicide on T-Pain himself. "Whas her sign?"

"Uhh…I don't know, Scorpio?"

Riley slapped his forehead. "Nooo, nigga! I mean where she FROM!"

"…OHHH! 'Den damn, say that instead of bein' so complicated! She was born in Baltimore, but came out of Compton, I think." Yohansi grinned shut the cabinet and drew out a black bag this time. "Aye, what choo gon' do fo' yo' twenty-first birthday, Esco?"

Riley's short eyelashes fluttered in a quick blink before his face eventually screwed up into slight unhappiness. He gave a noisy sigh and put his flattened eyes in his lap. "Nothin', lil' man. Shit, I actually believe what mah brotha be sayin'… I only see it as anotha year gone by that I've survived out on these streets."

Carefully, Yohansi began to slide out a rather large pistol and placed it down onto the table as well, ostensibly loading it with ammo. "So you ain't gon' do NOTHIN' fo' yo birthday?"

"Do it sound like I'ma do somethin' fo' mah birthday?" He questioned in slight exasperation.

"Mm…in dat case, me an' Kenyon will throw you a lil' some'in, some'in!"

Riley waved it all off with a hand of dismissal. "Naw, naw…s'aiight, I'd rather NOT have one. I wouldn't be smilin' or shit anyway. So why waste stolen chedda?" He glanced over at Yohansi for a short while, but then did a complete double take to see the younger reflection cocking a pistol in the direction of the wall. "Yohansi, where the FUCK you get that god damn gun from?!"

Yohansi blinked at the sudden hasty tone. "From Kenyon—AYE, MANNN!" he squeaked when the weapon was snatched from his palm.

"Man, gimme dis shit!" Riley began to unload the gun as bullets clattered onto the table. "You too young ta be carryin' 'roun' guns! If niggas on the street saw you with it they'd shoot YOU befo' you can even pull the trigger!"

"Psh, why YOUZ trippin', Esco? You joined the streets when you was fourteen or way younga too! So what chu mean "I" shouldn't be carryin' roun' no guns!?"

Riley's fierce stare bored into the shorter boy as if to threaten him. "Exactly, and I ain't gon' have you turn out to be like me! Roamin' 'round the city stealin' fo' useless survival and on the top of T-Pain's HIT LIST!"

The younger body began to slump his shoulders in distress. Before neither one could emit another word, the cordless phone began to ring like an alarm clock on the coffee table. Instinctively, Yohansi leaned over to retrieve the ringing electronic and pressed his thumb into the button to switch it on, holding it up against his eardrum. "Ello?"

Riley watched him, mouth-shut and ears open, secretly hoping that it was his older brother on the other line.

"Yeah, yeah! He right here, nigga! Wanna talk to 'im…? Naw? Well shit, how much in a rush are you, foo'?" Yohansi stayed silent for moments longer to hear the voice explaining inaudible directions to him. "…Aiight, I'll tell 'im. So ten o'clock ta'night, right? Yeah, I got chu…no! I ain't be sniffin' yo' drugs, nigga!" he nevertheless gave a timid grin. "I'ma see you 'den. Peace." Simply he pressed another button and placed the phone back onto its original spot. He looked over at Riley, excitement dancing in his amber eyes. "Kenyon said he want me ta' take you ova ta Overwrite Boulevard at—"

"At ten o'clock ta'night—yeah, so I heard." Riley lifted off his rear and brushed the knees of his saggy jeans off.

"…Aye, if you run into that Compton chick before me, then tell me 'bout her features, kna' mean? Like aaall the body details…you know, cup size an' whatnot." Yohansi traced his hands on his chest and flicked out his tongue.

Riley just stared down on the rookie with the slight shaking of his head before then brushing past him. "Nigga, you STUpid."

Yohansi quietly watched him wander by before grinning cockily and tagging along like a duckling. "But chu loooove me, riiight?"

**Location: Overwrite Boulevard (10:00pm)**

The once colored grey streets were now sinister shadows as sodium lights turned lit sections orange under its cast away.

Riley, in his previous torn black jacket and black baseball cap, promenaded these dark streets of night as few vehicles rattled past him and Yohansi, the chatting echoes of the follower's voice endlessly filling the block.

"And I was like—I was like, 'You wanna fuck wit dis, you lil' bitch?! Yeah I THOUGHT so! And them niggas ran like bitches at tha sight of dat pistol, too!" As Yohansi continued his useless blabber about his actually inexperienced events with the mafia life, Riley's mind remotely muted him out.

It was actually hysterical how he found "himself" annoying. (A/N: Since Yohansi's like him when he was younger)

It had been five months since any merciless battles with T-Pain's mob, "The Urban Terrorists" broke loose, and the last "war" was that with Riley's crew, "The Game". He fled after the death of his gang to the farthest side of Woodcrest, the most corrupted and trashed lands and away from T-Pain's territory. He knew his men were searching for him night and day, since it was insulting for anyone to survive T-Pain's torment, especially some "kid". T-Pain also hated "The Game" with a passion, since the leader was his half-brother. It seemed fit to have Riley dead.

Riley's mind still lingered on each and every death of his closet friends, including the sacrifice of Tanker.

Till this day it struck him into misery since his life was not worth saving nor was it worth living. It made him wonder nearly every second why he hadn't fallen dead yet like all the other street soldiers who were far greater than himself. It was Kenyon's theory that he had a Guardian Angel, but if that was true, then what made him so special to be loved by heaven when he should be loved by hell for all his homicides and felonies?

Yohansi just continued to chatter and blather, his everlasting grin remaining pasted to his brown face as his gaze wandered up to Riley, and finally the humorous grin departed. "Yo…you aiight, Esco? You haven't said nothin' since we left!"

He was right to worry, because Riley's expression had stayed ever so staid with his hard eyes stuck on the oblivion in front of him.

Quickly he snapped out of his mind and glanced at Yohansi with an invisible question mark above his head. "…Huh?"

Yohansi's eyebrows interlaced to express his trepidation as he opened his mouth to re-ask, but a loud shriek of wheels interfered.

Though both corn-rowed men ignored this; thinking it was a car accident.

In less than a minute, stampeding feet rushed toward them from behind, Riley being the first to spin his head around in alert only to have his back thrown against the display window of a store and a firm hand grasp the collar of his tank top. A stranger's arm arm compelled against his throat to keep him pinned.

Three thugs with pistols pointed their barrels at Yohansi as the young boy raised both hands in the air while whimpering.

Riley glared at the hooded man through one eye of burning ire. The assaulter who had him pinned to the wall and a Glock gun to his temple was half-masked by the scarf tied around his mouth. After a moment of silent, chest-heaving tension, the half-concealed man released Riley along with pocketing of his pistol before jerking down the scarf and pulling off the hood.

The man's skin was chocolate brown with a shaved head and an eyebrow piercing, and he was suddenly laughing his head off. "Lookit chu', scaredy cat! God DAMN fucker!" he joshed, shoving Riley in the chest. "You looked like you pissed in yo' diaper!"

Escobar growled, and then shoved him away with both palms. "Don't fuckin' pull that stunt again, Kenyon! That shit ain't funny!" he roared, quite ferociously, but his friend continued to snicker and poke fun at him.

The other thugs had lowered their pistols on the still traumatized Yohansi.

"Aww I'm sorry, nigga…but I jus' couldn't resist." Kenyon patted his arm in false pity. "Esco need a huuug?"

"Esco need ta' smoke a nigga, thas what he need ta do." Riley's scowl never vanished as he turned to begin walking again. "Called me up here jus' fo' a prank ambush? Ha-Ha-Ha, REAL hilarious bullshit, Kenyon. You should win a damn Oscar fo' most prankster nigga o' the year while you at it." He muttered in piqued sarcasm.

Kenyon watched his closet friend walk away from him with a quick blink. "Escobar! Stop actin' like a lil' hoe, man." His hand firmly gripped the side of his shoulder to stop him, but Riley heatedly wrenched out of his grip.

"Get offa me, man!" Riley demanded strictly, still looking ahead.

"Look, look, I'm SORRY aiight? It was jus' a lil' ' fun an' games, man. Ain't like I pulled the trigga or some shit! So no hard feelin's, coo'?" he followed along side his friend with a small frown. "Aye…" the back of his hand hit against Riley's chest to grab his attention, doing it twice a little harder to imply that he was ordering it. "Aye motherfucka, look…"

Ultimately Riley turned to him; however his glare had never lightened up. "The hell you want now?"

Kenyon shoved an invitation into Riley's torso, skimming both avenues. "Be 'dere at 11, aiight? I's a party goin' on at the old abandoned hotel down in Southridge." Before long a smirk replaced the frown on Kenyon's face. "You need ta loosen up, Escobar! You too tense! This'll lighten yo' mood…I promise you gon' like it. There gon' be some pussy up in dis motherfucka too.—And don't worry, they ain't apart of Slickback's Trick Ranch." He winked with a smirk.

Riley's eyebrow lifted and then stared down on the dirt-tainted parchment of its location.

Kenyon slapped his shoulder with his palm of assurance. "You'll like it, take mah word fo' it. Some'in good is goin' down fo' you ta'night. Peace, Cat." With another wink and a lazy shoulder-bump handshake, Kenyon turned from Riley and passed Yohansi by. "Wassup, lil' bro?" he playfully smacked the cheek on the still wide-eyed face of his younger brother before hopping back into his unmarked car with his followers.

Riley watched silently as the car sped off into the night and towards the location of the party and eventually disappearing along the vanishing point of the road. He stared down on the parchment, wondering if he should attend for a distraction for his mind. With an inward, angry sigh, he stuffed the invitation down into his jacket pocket and headed into the same direction.

Yohansi at last flinched out of his trauma and shook off the effect with an afterwards grin. "W-Was you scared? Man I wasn't scared one BIT!" he continued to grin in fakery as he chased after Riley.

**Location: Southridge (11:30pm)**

"Daaamn! Lookit all da' honeys!" the slightly squeaky voice of Yohansi bellowed and yet drowned out in the blaring music, "Er'Body in Da Club Gettin' Tipsy".

The hotel was definitely abandoned years ago, but it wasn't in horrible condition either. Darkened rooms and halls with flashing colorful lights that landed in blemishes on the jerking bodies of dancing people, yes parties were always dated at this spacious and immensely popular Inn.

Yohansi stood beside Riley as he practically eye-raped each and every woman dressed in club-banging clothing. "Wooo, dis be the shit right here—Sup baby?" He greeted one who disgustedly brushed him by. "Well…U-Uh, call me!" he raised a timid hand before nudging Riley. "Chicks man… 'dey can't keep they minds off they Chomper."

Riley raised both eyebrows at the name. " 'Chomper'?"

"Yeeeah, das mah STREET name!"

For a moment Riley just stared before shaking his head at it. "Ya' know what, I ain't even gon' ask, lil' nigga…" he stepped forward to make a hasty travel between grooving couples and singles along with the many women who struck their seductive smiles at him in lustful senses.

Occasionally he had to tug away wandering hands that roamed in marked off territories with a few curses at the meager-dressed women with a tint of pink on his cheeks. Their forwardness and scantiness caused his theories to conclude that they WERE apart of a Pimp's stable.

"Escobar! There go mah bonafided motherfucka!" Kenyon shouted over the noise, sitting on a couch with his long-term girlfriend on his lap.

Riley quickly roamed over to him while shoving more people away. There was no need to introduce Kenyon's girlfriend and Riley to one another, for they had already met a few months ago. Riley didn't care too much even so, but she at the most wasn't promiscuous.

"Glad you could make it, dawg." Kenyon grinned, a little drunkenly.

"Yeah, yeah." Escobar murmured plainly without too much care, eyes scanning around.

Kenyon whispered something into the eardrum on his lover's, and she stood from his lap to do whatever task he ordered. "Ehe, anyway…lookin' fo' some bitches, Esco?"

"Psh, naw nigga I'm…" his sentence had trailed the moment his olive eyes rested on the group of black men feet away. His eyeballs jutted as he suddenly stopped his breath from escaping up his airways.

"Nigga you gon' hafta make yo' chick take a STDs test or some shit if you eva DO fin' one, cuz you can't pick off buffalo and say every hoe got some sexually transmit…" Kenyon blinked multiple times as he trailed off, and finally followed Riley's widened gaze.

There, in the distance and being blocked by the thousands of people, stood four of T-Pain's men this time. The recognizable "TERROR" was tattooed on each back of the head and along their powerfully brawny arms. They were surrounded by drinks and licentious women, but the most fearful detail was the fact that their eyes were surveying the hotel as if searching for something or most likely someone.

Riley took a heavy step back and was just about to flee until he bumped brutally into Kenyon who at the same time gripped both his shoulders to hold him still.

"Look, chill out, nigga! Chill out! I's ONLY the nigga's men, an' er'body know those are his new recruits! They don't even know a sht about chu, so chill out and stop actin' like a lil' !" Kenyon rasped, Riley staring back into his eyes. "Here, take a sip of 'dis ta take yo mind off it—Aye, Boquesia!" he snapped his fingers for his girlfriend to come to him with a drink, and then shoved a fancy wine-glass of vodka into his companion's palm.

Riley had been a little more sensible during the past few months, and knew when danger had outnumbered his gun ammunition, but this did not mean his obstinate side had been banished. Gradually that stubborn glare fixated on his face before he peered over his shoulder to see them looking elsewhere. Kenyon dropped his palms at his sides and watched them as well.

As Riley observed the men, he couldn't help but focus all his attention on the girl pushing through T-Pain's four-numbered crew. His orbs glimmered with a quick flash of interest, though maybe it was because she resembled himself all too significantly.

...Should he panic if she was--

"A-Aye, aye…" Riley gripped the chest of Kenyon's shirt with his free hand, eyes still entranced on the girl. "Who's that right 'dere?"

"Eh?" Kenyon directed his eyes to the caramel-skinned woman with the pale green eyes and ginger cornrows in decorations of accessories.

Her brown hair was a long ponytail of cornrows touching her thigh and loose curls styled in front of her ears. Her lips were tiny but plump, her nose was cute, her eyebrows were light brown and arched, but her green eyes were less than pleasant. She looked unapproachable, but she was nice to stare at.

Yohansi too came by his brother's side, blinking widely. "Oooh, 'DOUBLE D's!—OW!" he held his punched arm with a pout. "What? I'm jus' sayin'! I wish she would turn aroun' so I could see that ass! I wanna see her wit all her clothes off!—OW! STOP HITTIN' ME!"

_'Fuck, she looks familiar, and that ain't cause she got mah face.'_ "So…you KNOW her, Kenyon?"

"Why? You plannin' ta hit her from tha' back, nigga?" Kenyon answered seriously to Riley's question.

Riley frowned, not amused. ""Pft, yeeeeah right…I ain't THAT interested."

"If you ain't gon' tell Esco 'den tell me befo' I go grab her seven digits!" Yohansi whined, tugging on his brother's sleeve.

Kenyon murmured the name of the female into his ear.

"Ohh fo' reals? DAS her?!" Yohansi's tongue dangled out of his mouth like a K-9. "I'MA GO SMACK DAT…ALL ON THE FLOO'!"

"NO, you gon' get fucked up, thas' what chu gon' do!" Kenyon jerked the short boy back by the back of his neck collar.

"Maaan…aiight, fine, fine…but do 'dey jiggle all nasty an' shit?" Yohansi shifted his eyes back and forth, being the most perverted teenager you could come across, or at least one of them.

But his brother strangely answered, "Naw, they don't. Push-up bras help a lot."

"…Ugghh nigga, why you watchin' 'em?"

"…WHY YOU EVEN ASKIN'?!"

"CUZ I'M CURIOUS AND SOMEWHAT DESPERATE, NIGGA!!"

Kenyon stared appallingly. "…Nigg', we need ta find you a girl QUICK befo' you start hittin' on anime drawin's on paper like er'body else."

Riley took a huge gulp of his booze to finish off the entire glass and left the two brothers to argue with both his eyes still focused on the female. _'I remember her...I know I fuckin' do…'_ he kept on his trademark frown, browsing the room since he had currently lost track of her until he exited it and looked down one of the hallways.

Escobar blinked to feel the sudden heavy aura weigh on his shoulders and turned his head to his right, immediately locking his eyes on her those few feet away.

She was standing in the hall by herself, sipping vodka, her head off in space and her legs crossed. Gradually she turned her attention to him with her lips puckered against the rim of the wineglass, and her eyes widened just briefly to come across her male look-alike, almost in slight fear. After a few passing seconds, they just gazed; her eyeing him up and down, him getting stiff in the legs. She looked approachable at some point, unsure and fidgety, _shy_ even, but then she had looked seductive once he had blinked.

"You happen to catch eye of something you like," She cozied her back up against the wall and smirked like a cat behind her shoulder, her eyelashes low and cutting. "Or had you followed me here?" She hovered the glass against her curled lips, chuckling through her teeth, trailing her tongue along the rim and leaving saliva in her path.

"U-Uh, naw, naw I...I didn't come here ta' flirt, I...came for somethin' more important…" Riley grinned nervously to where it was highlighted in his voice. Why the hell did he come over here again?

She closed her eyes, sighing irritantly, "What's more important than a one night stand? Do share."

"I got a few questions I need to ask about somethin' personal."

Her eyes snapped open, and were suddenly burning into his loins. "Then I suggest you turn yo' 'curious George' eyes somewhere else before they'll be oozing with red in the next five seconds. I don't take _questions._"

With an almost horrified mind murmur,_ 'Dis hoe's BIPOLAR!_' Riley could feel the gulp straining to slip down his tight throat as he lifted his hands in defense. "H-Hol' up, hol' up, damn! I jus' wanted ta know ONE thing, aiight?" Quickly he spat his inquiry out, "Y-You Anjelika...? Anjelika, uh...I forgot the last name, but..."

One hand was trembling on her wineglass as she walked toward him with a dark air vibing off her.

"Uh…I rememba when I was younger on the news channel about a bunch o' murders in a flaming apartment buildin' that went down in LA, and only one little girl survived. They showed her picture an' everythin'…Anjelika, right? You jus'...yo' eyes and stuff..." he was talking with his hands. "...sh-she wore that glare."

Indeed, she had been that familiar girl that was all over the news broadcast for a week straight. But it was awfully hilarious why he even cared to store her name in is his memory bank. Yet somehow, that's not where he ONLY remembered seeing her face from...

Anjelika's expression softened at the slightest, but a few seconds later, Riley felt something cold and a razor-sharp being pressed on his stomach, daring him to say another word or even twitch so that it could stab him until his intestines spilled over his shoes in a flooding of blood and stomach.

"Who...the **_fuck_** are you?" Anjelika's breath was on his face, her heavy-lidded eyes were red with liquid and hate-fueled, and the knife in her hand was pressing harder on the flesh to the brink of ripping it open. "Who the**_ fuck _**sent you to stroll up here and try ta' lead me into some kind of false sense of security so you can put my head on a stake?"

Riley's firm fingers attached themselves around her wrist to keep her from jabbing her weapon into him. His face was devoid of any intimidation, but scrunched in surprise and sudden anger, "...Oh you her, ain't you? Oh you _her_. That murderer chick who took out all the hardcores."

"And you one of 'dem fuckers, ain't you?" Her upper lip was quivering and right now, he didn't know what she was going on about. "You one of them **_fuckers_! I should rip your throat out and put it on a motherfuckin' plate--**"

"...I hate to break it to you, but you don't fucking _scare_ me," Riley's hand squeezed her wrist feelingless so that the knife fell to the ground, her fingers spread out like a fan. "I dare you ta' kill me right now..." Riley's own breath seethed across the skin of her own face as he closed in threateningly. "I'ma give you five seconds to pick that knife up and stab me out, you psychopathic bitch--"

A severe and unforgiving slap whipped out across his already bruised cheek. Riley's pupils had dilated as the sting burned into his skin, lips parted from unbelievable shock, for even drops of blood had flung from his mouth. A few dancing couples paused to intake the action with humorous grins or expressions of interest.

"You don't know ANTYHING," with a snarl of vicious temper, Anjelika threatened him with the knife on his throat, "If you ever…disrespect me again…the next time I see yo' face from even a mile away," she leaned in and slid her tongue along his ear before whispering hotly, "...Your blood will be on my knife."

Searching his disgusted but never terrified eyes, she jerked away from him and turned to walk, eyes aflame with rage and despair.

Riley growled like a mutt and spat out the thick red liquid through the side of his mouth. "…Satan's Compton Anjel...now I know i's you..." he muttered under his very breath in a raspy tone, sniffing up any blood that had clogged his nostril.

"DAAA-YUUUM!" Yohansi tittered, staring at Riley in shock since he had been observing for some time. "Esco you jus' got PIMP SLAPPED BY A HOE, mah nigga!"

Kenyon only had his eyebrows arched. "S'prised he didn't get SHOT. She mus' like you a LOT, because you just gave her the chance to fuckin' murder you!"

"Oh yeah, nigga, callin' me a motherfucker and stickin' a knife in mah gut, yeah I'd definitely say she sprung ova me." Riley scowled, spitting spats of blood onto the wretched ground ever so often.

Anjelika stared back over her shoulder through the corner of her eye at her replica before it narrowed dangerously.

It was disturbingly fascinating and enraging to him how anyone at all could chop a person up into chunks of blood and meat the way people like her did, and not feel any emotions while doing it, but maybe sick enjoyment. It didn't matter if she had a hard life, there was no excuse.

"Yo, RILEY!" Kenyon continuously tugged on his friend's arm to wake him from the possession of red seethe.

Riley's malicious attitude eased as he turned his head to Kenyon just with a bit of annoyance. "WHAT, nigga?"

"T-Pain and some mo' of his crew jus' walked in, so maybe it IS best that we "skedaddle" NOW!"

Riley watched as the terrorist gang banger himself stood at the end of the hallway with a few of his best men, though fortunately his eyes were examining the many prostitutes that stood against the walls.

Anjelika and T-Pain stole a glance from at each other while she had been shoving through those prostitutes, and just for that second, it seemed that something had either sparked or a message was being sent through. Before that second that had lasted for decades was up, T-Pain's sturdy fingers reached out and latched onto her wrist, leaning himself into her ear and brushing his lips against its drum while whispering unknown words to her while she listened intently, using the same hand to trail down her lower back.

The female of a thug flung his palm off her body before it had reached too low, giving him a weak glare as if she couldn't protest or do a single thing to him. The man himself only smirked and for some reason giving her a brief nod as his smirk melted into a line of seriousness. Anjelika brushed past him and his men.

Kenyon released Escobar's arm shakily and rushed to find Yohansi who had apparently vanished. "Aw …where the fuck's Yohansi?!"

Riley's eyes continued to concentrate on T-Pain who had his back turned while shoving an unknown object into the palm of one of his men, Riley pushing a frantic Kenyon lightly as he dashed back inside the room. "Aye, we gon' hafta fin' him on our way out, cuz I think the bastard nigga jus' used his "spidy sense" or somethin' on our asses!"

"R-Right!" he gave a shaky nod.


	2. Thug's False Sanctuary of Corruption PT2

**_Chapter One: 'Thug's False Sanctuary of Corruption_**

_**Part Two**_

**_--_**

**Sidewalk**

"As long as you roll wit Chomper, I'ma give you mah everythin', girl. From the bottom of mah heart, I PROMISE you." Yohansi soothed an anonymous naïve girl's ear with meaningless game lines as he exited the Inn with his arm swathed around her shoulders.

They shared echoing laughter, cuddling in the cold chill of night's sanctuary while walking regularly down the forsaken sidewalk. The young rookie placed playful lips onto his new found-lover's nape while Daddy's little girl giggled in response.

"Hey, hey…isn't that T-Pain's car?" she placed a hand into his chest to halt him, hazel eyes on the large black Navigator vehicle parked in front of the liquor store, also known as the furtive drug dealer's store owned by Chico.

Yohansi stopped his kisses against the year-younger female to look ahead, irises protruding with wide interest and full attention. "Holy shit, it sho is!—And look at all them hoes up in there!" that grin replaced itself as he observed the three women dressed in glimmering biki-wear with literal diamond dog collars around their necks leashed to the inside of the running car. "…But where T-Pain's men at?" he glanced around, seeing them in the Liquor store exchanging stolen goods. "Hee-hee-heeee!" Yohansi thoughtlessly left his former "prey" and ran off towards the car without her.

"HEY! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE, 'I PROMISE I'LL GIVE YOU MAH EVERYTHIN', GIRL' SPEECH?!" she wailed.

The boy hopped into the driver's seat of the brand-new Navigator and shut the car door, beaming back at the three barely-clad women in the back seat with their dog leashes. "Sup, ladies?"

They just blinked and glanced at each other's faces as if they were oblivious children without the capability of speech.

He leered at them and turned the absentmindedly deserted key in the ignition with a scoff, launching the car forward and towards the Inn.

**Southridge Hotel**

Kenyon slammed the old door of the hotel as he and Riley emerged from the exit where the many lined-up drunken couples stood along on the vaulted porch. "YOHANSIII!!" the eldest brother exclaimed over and over to no avail. "FUCK!"

Riley too searched left and right for him, and after covering the grounds of the loud-bumping hotel, Yohansi was nowhere to be found in the average sight. "The nigga betta appear SOON befo' T-Pain come marchin' down the god damn stairs!"

As if on cue, Yohansi parked right in front of the Inn across the street in his large stolen vehicle, hanging out the window and beaming. "AYE KENYON AND ESCO! I JUS' FOUND SOME HOES WE CAN BANG WIT TA' NIGHT!" he "whooped" and laughed, hitting the side of the car door in excitement. "JACKPOT, NIGGAS!"

Both adults put their full focus on the teenager, gasping silently in unison because they too had acknowledged the familiar SUV. "YOHANSI! GET CHA ASS OUTTA THAT DAMN CAR NOW!!"

Yohansi blinked at the double-demand before pouting like an infant. "But I was just—"

"GET OUT THE CAR!" they howled with a crackle of fright.

"AIIGHT, AIIGHT!" the boy kicked the door open and dropped onto his feet, slamming it closed again with an angered expression on his scrunched up face. "Psh…always gotta ruin a nigga's fun…"

Before screeching even more at his brother, Kenyon spun his head around to hear the loud thumping of numerous footsteps from the inside of the hotel approaching the front door they stood in front of. "YOU JUS' HAD TA JINX IT, DIDN'T YA RILEY?!" he thrust his hands into Riley's back and shoved him over the balustrade of the Inn entrance porch, soon tumbling down with him and pressing his back against the balustrade as Riley followed suit, both silencing their exhales and inhales.

The moment the two took cover was the moment T-Pain and his crew had burst out of the hotel, eyes set ablaze with the mixing of vehemence. Immediately they had recognized the stolen car after receiving the urgent call from one of T-Pain's men, and had their pistols ready for gang homicide. The grieving factor was that fourteen year old Yohansi, who barely knew a thing about a thug's life, hadn't even seen nor felt T-Pain's presence since he was such a distance away with his back leant on the opposite side of the vehicle while fussing and cursing to himself about how unfair and bossy his older brother was.

"Let's go show the little rookie who's boss, shall we boys?" T-Pain grinned crudely, cocking his firearm.

Kenyon and Riley both watched fearfully with dribbling sweat as T-Pain and his counterparts hastened forward like jackals, and for a second in time, Kenyon felt his heart stop totally with the shrilling "-bang-" of two fired gunshots.

"YOHANSI!!" Kenyon stood on his feet and was about to turn his horrified sight to his brother until Riley yanked him back down with a hand clamped around his mouth to barricade the muffled bawl.

Burning rubber shrieked as the tires of the black Navigator wheeled off into the death-stricken night, revealing the spiraled out body of Yohansi on the bloodied concrete street once the vehicle had moved.

The black of Kenyon's pupil enlarged abnormally as the usual light against it suddenly shrunk into utmost darkness. He gazed out onto the street where his brother lied as he experienced tears of rareness burn into his sodden vision, soon flinging Riley off of him and sprinting to Yohansi madly.

"Y-YOHANSI!!" the brother could barely even manage to choke out his words of terror as his esophagus began to feel desiccated and sore. He stumbled toward the lifeless boy and kneeled over him, shaking the dead corpse nonetheless as if the murdered brother was only imprisoned in a deep, persistent slumber. "Y-Yohansi…c-c'mon, g-get up, little bro! Get up!" Kenyon went on jerking him from side to side, Yohansi's white jersey blemishing into large blotches of red while bloodlines seeped through the corners of his mouth.

Riley rushed over to Kenyon's side and just stood there, orbs quaking within his sockets with a hung open mouth, in complete disbelief that this was reality and not his hallucination of a thousand nightmares coalesced.

Twitching eyebrows wrinkled up on Riley's forehead to express his shared panic. "Yo…Yohansi…DAMN IT." he watched his friend embrace the blood-covered body to his chest in heart-throbbing sobs, rocking back and forth, back and forth with his baby brother cradled in his arms.

Escobar could feel the glass of his heart shatter into a billion splinters of unimaginable wretchedness, for there were no words to capable of expressing his silent agony. He clenched his trembling fists angrily with the grit of his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and letting that single tear line trickle down his face without bothering to wipe its crystalline remains. After allowing this, more tears realized that it was alright to shed themselves down Riley Escobar's cheeks given that the burden of the dwelling anguish could be kept inside no longer.

Satan's Compton Anjel watched from the fifth floor out of a glass-less window, feeling an extremity of hurt form from witnessing the murder of such a youngling who only had fourteen years to live his life to its fullest. She closed her eyes with a shuddering sigh in empathy for Kenyon and Riley, and then eventually abandoned the window with a recovered soul.

The sirens of ambulance turned midnight air red.

**Location: Woodcrest Pulse 88th St.**

He could feel his legs getting wobblier with a hot head full of giddiness, feeling more somberness come over him in a heavy, massive wave…

Riley Escobar dragged his feet against the pavement with his head hung mournfully, the tears having stopped hours ago before medics had dragged Yohansi's corpse into their truck with Kenyon weeping on his knees in the middle of the street. It was terrifying to the bone…to not only witness misled Yohansi be murdered by the emotionless hands of T-Pain, but to witness his good friend, the one who always had laughter to share and never a tear to shed, sobbing and howling to not, "let it be".

Riley felt his fists tighten tensely as collided hate and sorrow strengthened with a venomous snarl.

Yohansi looked up to him with eyes of admiration for reasons he couldn't even comprehend, but daily he brushed the clingy teenager to the side. And now, because of Riley's unintentional influence over him, he was killed on the streets before he could even enter them…and by the likes of T-Pain. 'That motherfuckin' mark can burn in HELL for all I care!!'

Again he wiped his left nostril which was damp with mucus, raising his miserable eyes to the starry night above his head. Why did everything have to be so beautiful and serene up there when everything else was so hideous and lethal down here? Grey clouds of depression loomed over him and shielded the stars from his saddened stare.

A spatter of rain left its watery substance on the bridge of Riley's nose, and soon tens of thousands more spilled over Woodcrest with the clashing of thunder to sob over the death of another urban youth. With a hefty, shivering sigh, Escobar pulled his hood over his head and began to stagger along the sidewalk aimlessly like an emotional wreck, being drenched horribly in the cold pouring rain. He went on watching every step of his feet as they drew back and forth after each other while trying to steel his weakened emotions, hands pocketed during this sorrowful trance.

He had nowhere to crash for the night…and he was too far from his Revolutionary of a brother to turn to. He hadn't been too ecstatic about stumbling onto his doorstep anyway. Not like this.

**_Riley Escobar's Commentary_**

_Yeah, some'in "good" went down fo' me aiight ta'night…watchin' lil' Yohansi get murdered! Y-Yeah that's some real nice bullshit!_

_…It's hard ta watch yo closet folks, ones who CARED fo' yo god damn well-being, jus' vanish in the spray of bloodshed like that, man. It hurts…BAD. And ta see T-Pain kill ANOTHER person closet to me, infuriated me. Fuck, if I could kill the nigga I'd do it!! Yohansi was jus' a lil' kid, man! So what, he jacked his car, it doesn't mean he deserves to DIE fo' it! Not at the age of fuckin' fourteen! The kid was BARELY on his way to fifteen! I know you probably think I wouldn't care much for Yohansi afta all the times I brushed him off…Yohansi reminded me o' me when I was little…I didn't want him ta grow up and go through what I went through…what I'm fuckin' GOIN' through. I shoulda paid more attention to him, and guided him in the RIGHT direction with words explainin' how this life, this "Thug Sanctuary" is a false corruption… Instead I jus' let him tag along, not really givin' a damn where he followed me._

_I don't know how much mo' of this bullshit I can take…watchin' niggas burst into red fluids right before me, hear 'em, see 'em dyin'. Wit all honesty, there ain't nothin' glorious OR heroic about takin' anotha life! There are points when I wish I could turn back the hands of time, though… (sigh)…I wish I could change it NOW…so Yohansi would've been able to survive tonight…so Kenyon wouldn't be a traumatized man right now. Shit, Kenyon is literally all I got regardin' homies on the streets…but he's mentally gone too. He'll want to blow T-Pain's head off, I jus' know it. I don't blame the dude, cuz I, at this very moment, would love to see T-Pain squirm and beg fo' mercy like a lil' punk a btch. Even if I'm caught up in the phase of anger right now, I know well enough not ta' go marchin' up onto his turf and get killed like a dumbass mark. I learned from last time…_

_Psh…but it's funny like that in da streets sometimes. You neva know what the fuck's gon' happen…or when. I had done too much ta turn back. I'm a street soldier, not a weaklin' disrupted because of the many fallen soldiers aroun' me. It's eitha kill or be killed._

_But I'm wishin' you the best of peace on the otha side, Yohansi…a.k.a. "Chomper". And I jus' want chu ta know…that you didn't need ta be a nigga_ _like me to be tough skin, you already a little warrior in mah book. Yo' name will be remembered too…along with yo' oldest brotha Chauncey, and to all the otha niggas that ain't here._

_Peace, niggas…peace._


	3. Twenty Two Sceranios on Compton Avenue

**_Chapter Two: Twenty Scenarios from Compton Avenue_**

_Location: Woodcrest - Compton Avenue_

**/Time: 1:10am/**

_'Damn, strolled off in the Esse territory….'_

The rain hissed softly down, shrouding Woodcrest in a miasma of grey.

Riley Freeman a.k.a. Riley Escobar lifted his gaze to look up from the visor of his cap that dripped with drops of murky rain, the rolling lightning flashing against his upset olive eyes. He gave a grunt at his whereabouts and scanned left to right with a tense rush springing up his sharp senses. _'Great, where the fuck am I now?'_ he discovered the green-painted street sign that hung off its pole, "Compton Avenue", and immediately his tension tightened. "Compton Avenue? Perfect, now where the fuck is Compton Avenue?"

He had been caught lost between boulevards plenty of times, and all those times he didn't care, for he didn't have a permanent home to begin with, but the white capitalized words, "Compton Avenue" sent him shudders of uneasiness in the soul like a sixth sense.

"Psh…jus' gon' hafta find the 'tunnel of light', 'den…" he shook his head hopelessly and dug his hand into the side of his trousers, awaiting whenever the pistol needed to direct its barrel in the face of a gang member. Slowly he advanced along the still-life streets; not even a single car speeding by let alone a homeless citizen staggering the sidewalks in rags and wraps.

A chill of fogged breath left the tingly parted lips of him as he stayed alert in the soundless air besides the falling rain, browsing for any Hispanics, since this was dominantly "Esse Terrain". Compton Avenue was a one-race only region, home to racist or prejudice thugs.

Riley froze inside himself when a sudden gunfire went off, rushing into an alley and putting his back against the edge's brick to get out of sight, peeking over it hesitantly as his eyes darted around the lanes of the streets and the sidewalks only to confront nothing. His forehead wrinkled in bewilderment until another firing boomed, and this time a disturbingly gruff laugh trailed after.

"Whas hood now, NIGGER? Didn't you understand that you weren't welcome here, you lil' whore?"

This time Riley blinked in utter curiosity of who the victim was. Looking both ways before throwing himself into the open, he slid along the side of the brick wall and toward the opening of another alleyway, peering over the wall's rigid corner and widening his jade eye.

In the midst of uncountable encircling gangsters was the familiar convict herself lying against the pavement on her side, a bloodline rolling from the corner of her mouth trickling down her chin while she squeezed her bloodied arm tightly in a pool of red mixing in the rain. Her pistol had been kicked away quite a distance away from her with all its blank bullets scattered around the alley.

"We been hearin' bout cha lil' popularity spreadin', and as you know, er'body's literally DYIN' ta take youz out before you take one of US out." One thick Hispanic teased with a drunken tone of voice in his monotone speech. "And me' an' da boys decidin' ta take that privilege."

"Satan's Compton Anjel slayed on Compton Avenue…got a nice ring to it, eh?" An anorexic-looking man grinned at the gang leader with a golden tooth as fifty-percent of the twenty-man arm of gang bangers laughed at this in response.

"Aye, mang…I don't think "slayed" is a term in the dictionary…" an anonymous member corrected.

The bony-man spat at him. "Man shut cho' book worm ass up!"

"Fuck the short talk already!" Anjelika scowled up at the surrounding group, as if she even had a chance of defense with that cunning smirk on her face through a weak glare. "If you gonna 'slay' Satan's Anjel, then do yo' worst…Mexicans can't aim anyway…"

"AYE, nigger! Mah Papi's from Puerto Rico, my motha's from El Salvador, NEITHER of those are 'Mexico'!" more random outbursts erupted from the Hispanic members.

"Oh? Well sorry fo' the misunderstandin'…" Anjelika muttered after a wince, her unwounded hand reaching out towards her pistol while she felt her body numb from the wintry liquid spilling over her body in angry pitter-pats. A quaky gasp erupted from her all of the sudden as a large boot stomped down onto the weapon, sliding it back against the concrete and away from her waggling palm.

"Ah-ah-ah, stupid ass BIIITCH…" The frail Hispanic leered over her. "Didn't your mammy tell you no play with gun? Eh?"

Riley retreated from the wall's edge and let his chest deflate with a long, frustrated breath to exhale all his sudden shaken up effects. He closed his eyes briefly and held his forehead with a soaked palm, flinging off the rain with the shake of his head.

_'Keep movin', Esco…dis ain't your fight, an' you ain't tryna risk gettin' fucked up by twenty crazy ass beaners on Compton Avenue!'_ his lids raised to reveal shimmering emerald irises that danced in between complicated decision-making.

With a head high, Escobar took a step onward just to jerk at the gunshot, almost instantly turning his head to see her now on an arched back against the flooded floor while clutching the blood that gushed from her shoulder, the gang leader towering over her with his handgun pointed in the same area he had shot her.

"Squirm, little nigger whore…" he sniggered with yellow teeth, jabbing his foot into her side to listen to her yowl again in more everlasting agony.

The twenty-year old Freeman's eyes widened…in horror.

_'No, keep god damn walkin', Esco! Don't even turn back an'…urrrgh…fuck you, soft side! Damn sometimes I be wishin' I was heartless!'_ with a snarl mostly at himself, he sprinted into the alley and rushed the Esses, raising two pistols he had stashed away and firing deadly gunfire like all of hell's wrath had broken out.

The moment the crew was able to turn around was the moment a bullet bored into the center of their foreheads or impaled crucial body parts with the drilling noise of unstoppable gunshots.

_'Man I can't believe I'm doin' dis shit…riskin' mah life ova some murdering HOE…'_ Riley gritted his teeth as his sweaty palms gripped the handles of his weapons more securely while blasting members, but Anjelika had been surrounded by a gang of twenty; he had a lot to exterminate and dodge from.

Before being blown to smithereens, a bony Hispanic triggered his gun, and the pained howl of Riley experiencing awful penetrating anguish within his kneecap released the next sound in the red air of combat. He slammed his side against the wall to hold himself up from collapsing due to the wounded kneecap, letting out slow drawn-out pants with one closed eye, but nonetheless began shooting all over again to cause mayhem. He was too far into the battle to call retreats now.

Four more thugs suffered with a bullet to the throat and chest, and now only one stood and directly rushed him. This time it was Riley's turn to undergo a gunshot to the right shoulder and left palm, causing both his hands to drop the pistols at his blood-covered injuries. He winched but did not yelp, after all being used to this type of pain, yet he gave out a strangled cry of his torment as a dagger suddenly penetrated into his upper left breast, blood spattering beneath him and all over the pavement in a pool of thick overflowing fluids. The lone "Esse" grinned in near victory, but ended up vomiting out his own fountain of blood before running his bolted open eyes down to the bloodied blade of a knife sticking out his bulky chest. After a few seconds, his dead body merged with the harsh floor.

Anjelika had appeared standing behind her fallen victim, breathing in and out heavily with small blobs of sweat clinging to her forehead, palm all smeared in red still gripping her shoulder to decrease the rapidity of blood flow. She raised her fierce eyes to Riley, her weak expression softening lightly in mercy to see him on his knees in a weary state.

Reaching up with his own injured palm, Escobar yanked the dagger out of his upper left chest with a painful wince, more fluids spurting out. He closed his eyes tightly, coughing out splats of his thick red fluids, and covering the pavement with red blotches.

A moment later he was on his back, body drenched in blood completely, and violently choking on it in an ultimately agonized expression. His eyelids lifted halfway in a weakened gaze up at the figure now kneeling over him, and whether it was hallucination or not, the transparent yet bright white in the shape of wings that had spread out behind the back of the blurry human figure leaning over him.

Riley's blank orbs now glazed over with all jade dilated for a brief moment before going weary again, and soon enough his vision clouded by enclosing darkness until eventually he blacked out from all the blood loss.

**Location: Woodcrest Hospital - Sepulveda Blvd**

The gradual lifting of eyelids enveloped by darkness fluttered slowly to adapt to blurry vision shifting from angle to angle like an unadjusted camera lenses, but finally the vague face of an old white man wearing a white suit and glasses came into view.

"Mr. Freeman?" His voice was like a gentle echo in the patient's lightheaded mind. "Mr. Freeman?—Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling, Mr. Freeman?"

Riley groaned in restless pain, but before long was left blinking widely at the feeling of his head against soft fluffiness like cushions. He glanced around his environment, spotting hospital utensils and tools, and the doctor himself looming over him.

"You were stabbed in the upper chest almost all too close to your heart, shot in the shoulder, palm, and kneecap, Mr. Freeman. If you didn't seek medical attention before ten minutes later or much less, you'd be in your grave right now."

In a hoarse and frantic breath, "H-How did I g-get here…?" Riley coughed lightly after his sentence, still sapped.

"Hm? Oh, an African-American young lady brought you here. She was a little mouthy as well as rude, but I can understand that type of attitude when your lover's bleeding to death."

Shock struck him right in the face as he expressed it silently, completely ignoring the last sentence and paying attention to the first. "Wh-Wha she look like…?"

"Mm, let's see here…negro, with cornrows—"

"Hol' up, WHAT?!" Escobar choked out almost painfully, eyeballs virtually jutting out of his sockets before struggling as he sat up in his hospital bed.

The doctor only blinked. "Now, now, don't get too excited, Mr. Freeman!"

"Satan's Ice Queen BITCH, brought me h-here?!" A wince ended his statement with tightly shut eyes to feel his stitched up upper chest opening.

"Calm down, calm down! You'll wound yourself all over again!" He rested his hands on Escobar's chest and laid him back down into the cushion of a bed. "I'm not familiar with all these pet names you young peoples give each other nowadays, but yes… 'Satan's…Ice Queen Bitch' brought you in!"

"Wh-Where she now?" Riley asked through gritted teeth, one eye open.

The doctor grabbed a few tools of treatment. "She left hours ago early this morning—now I need to re-stitch your breast, please."

"A-Aye nigga, I ain't got tits, aiight? I'm a NIGGA not a hoe—"

"Your CHEST then, Mr. Freeman."

**Location: Woodcrest - Urban Streets**

After loitering hospital hours of ache and stitches, Riley Escobar was released during the hour of six when he had felt movable enough to go back to roving the trashed boulevards of new-Urban-day Woodcrest. He had his hands tucked within his pockets and a head hung, imprisoned in drilling thoughts about last night/this morning and of course, the Smith member…Anjelika Smith.

_'Man, why'd I even go out there and start blastin' them Esses? Doc said it himself: I coulda DIED in the next few minutes as the god damn outcome…shit, why'd SHE even 'save' mah shot-up black ass?'_ Riley's eyebrows knotted backwards on his wrinkled forehead in brewing confusion the more and more he thought of her reasons of her actions.

The atmosphere was bitter and aloof as if predicting the sky's precipitation to descend upon the city. Dogs howled and cats mourned in the alleys of infinite darkness. Riley made sure to stay out of these passages of owned turf that often marked the ambush of gangs jabbering on about how he was a trespasser in their "neighborhood."

_**"-CLICK-"**_

Riley's pupils enlarged when that deadly sound rang in his ears like the bells of death, steadily raising his fearful gaze from his hung head position just to be staring into the hollow barrel of an anonymous pistol, sweat already hurrying down his temple with the escalating thrusts of his heartbeat.

"Déjà vu told me I'd be crossin' paths with you again."

The corn-rowed thug now began to blink rapidly before conclusively recognizing the familiar owner holding the revolver those few inches away from his brow.

Anjelika gazed back into his eyes soullessly, though her own sparking with emerald life of remoteness. At once she lowered her firearm but did not pocket it, watching him before eventually settling her eyeballs onto her polished gun and cocking it while a few bullets clanked against the pavement after their plummet. "Feelin' any better, fucker?"

Recovering from slight shock, Riley came back to actuality with a minor but natural frown. "…Yeah….no longa hallucinatin' the bright light at the end of tha tunnel." He eyed her some, trying to determine whether she was being sarcastic or honestly wanting to know. "…Look, I'ma jus' get to tha point and cut the small talk bullshit, 'Majesty'."

Anjelika moved her expressionless face back up to him, speaking before he could get to his 'point'. "My pistol was loaded wit blank bullets last night, so my defensive was useless against twenty Esses out in the downpour. That's the reason why you saw me the way you did." She explained, though somewhat angrily. "Just wanted ta clear that up before you started thinkin' I would need yo' help again cuz I was some fraud of a thug. Now what you wanna tell me again, nigga?" she began gaiting toward him, eyes unblinking and staring right back into his at the same time as he walked backwards in a frisson of uneasiness since her handgun was still securely at her side.

"I-I wanted ta ask why you bring me to tha hospital instead of lettin' me die right then and there? Cuz I heard you was merciless, not compassionate… 'specially afta our last meetin'." He questioned, their gaze never unlocking seeing as the key was forever lost whilst he was nonetheless walking rearwards and almost up against a wall in the alley.

With the scrunch of her nose in offense, Anjelika shoved a palm into his chest momentarily to push his back up against that wall with his short complaint following. "Just because I blast niggas' caps off don't mean I'm heartless. I had reasons and each was out of defense—So now I got a question for you." She could feel the tense air of breath between them when she closed in on him by a few inches, still studying the dancing lights of slight anxiety against his olive orbs, and just about speaking quietly, "…Why'd...you save me?"

It took a few minutes to respond in their sealed gazing of the eyes, but finally Riley managed to part his lips and answer, "Same as you…I'm a thug, but that don't mean I'm heartless either…" _'Despite tha fact that you was an ass ta me a few hours BEFORE…' _He honestly hadn't known if this was the real answer or just a quick one of desperation so she would leave him be.

Anjelika went on searching his irises almost like she were seeking integrity with the flattening of her eyelids. "…What's your name?"

He hesitated for a small amount of seconds and was about to ask, _'The hell you wanna know for?'_, but concluded that suffering a more violent demand or riposte wasn't worth the shot: "It's Riley…"

Anjelika's eyes widened at this name murmured through the deep but well-toned voice of his. "…R-Riley, as in Riley Escobar…?"

"Yeah…" Escobar blinked this time too. "So you heard of me, huh?"

"…Y-Yeah…" she spoke in the same expression of flabbergast, at last drawing back from their close range and still staring in disbelief at him after going absolutely quiet.

Riley couldn't help but flutter his eyelids in those few blinks of perplexity. "Aye, you aiight?"

His female clone didn't react to him as her still bulged orbs slowly found the grey ground beneath her boots, blinded by a constellation of thoughts.

Riley cocked his head in a stare with a raised eyebrow. "Yeeeah…anyway, even though I ain't used ta givin' gratitude an' whatnot like dis, thank you…but next time, I ain't gon' need you ta save me. If I die on the streets, then I die on the streets. If I live, then that's coo' too. Glad I finally got ta meet Compton's weapon, though." He gazed at her a moment longer before turning and sweeping past her.

Anjelika shot out of her mental notions at his last words, quickly looking back out to his walking away figure. "Aye…R-Riley, hol' up a minute…!"

He blinked at the sound of his name and turned his head back to her a tad.

She reached him after the short dash and stood in front of his path to confront him directly, the new emotion of eagerness lying on her face. "I wanna make a deal wit chu…"

Riley's green eyes flashed in wonder, though soon his expression turned fishy. "What kind o' deal?"

"You saved me from about twenty Esses, and almost suffered death cuz of it. You ain't got no crew, so how bout I become your 'protector' ta help you out in twenty dangerous scenarios?"

Almost automatically, "HELL naw. I don't need you ta be savin' mah ass in the streets, aiight? I can handle mah SELF, and don't need NOBODY ta 'protect' and 'bail' me outta a fuckin' 'dangerous scenario'!" glowered Riley, fists clenched.

Anjelika just returned the deadly scowl, stepping up to him to show that she dominated his anger. "L-LOOK, nigga…I wanna fuckin' repay you. I know you ain't doin' jack shit here all by yo'self. And the way I see it, you'll be dead by tomorrow afta T-Pain catches yo' 'independent ass'." Her chestnut brow arched. "Bet chu didn't know that the niggas in this part of Woodcrest as we speak, movin' like a fuckin' pack of wolves ta' take conquest over everything, and if he sees the god damn WHITE of your eyes, he will take. you. down. He's been conquering over gangs and lettin' 'em join him or die instead. T-Pain's almost got an EMPIRE of niggas ready. What chu gon' do when his army of street soldiers come after yo' crew-less punk ass, Escobar? ALMOST every other nigga belong ta him…so you be the only one."

Riley was silent as he just gazed into her bright eyes for what seemed eternity, but then replied with a bold answer of stupidity, "…I'ma go down fightin', THAS what I'ma do." And with that unwavering tone of voice, he once again attempted brushing past her.

"ESCO…" Anjelika's fingers firmly latched onto his wrist, creating their first lingered physical contact. "…You won't even have a second ta pull out your pistol TO fight. Just let me pay off my debt to you, alright? So you WON'T be crew-less…"

With her clear and unyielding words of logic, Riley turned his gaze from hers and looked out to his right, eyes searching the nothingness in uncertainty. After a frustrated sigh and the lower of his head, he looked back up to her with a firm stare and murmured in defeat, "…Aiight."

Anjelika released his wrist roughly, still not smiling nor smirking even with his agreement. "Be grateful you have me on your fucking side. I never have anyone's back except mine, but for now it's an 'I owe you.'" With that, she performed an 180 degree angle spin on her heel and began walking ahead.

Riley observed her with the lowering of eyelids and the inward knit of eyebrows, soon enough walking in step with her. "So what, you gon' be mah darlin' 'Guardian Compton Anjel' now?" he said this amusingly since there silence had prolonged after a couple of minutes during their walk.

Anjelika didn't take the time to steal a glance. "For one, I ain't gon' be your 'Darlin' Angel'."

Riley blinked of the meaning, the vague tinge of pink accompanying his cheeks while he slowed down and she went onward. "I neva said you WERE!" he exclaimed with held out palms before emitting a small, 'psh' and muttering a thing or more about women, following behind her slothfully.

Anjelika Smith, Satan's Compton Anjel, withheld an unkind and _cunning_ smirk on her lips.

--

Oooooh cunning equal baaad.


	4. Salvation Lies in the Anjel's Palms

**_Chapter Three: Salvation Lies in the Angel's Palms_**

Bereft in splendor and isolated atop the cliff edge towering over coastal shores where the Crimson Bridge Highway stretched its lengthiness across the seas, was the Compton Angel's haven, the palace of sanctuary disguised as an abandoned abode that had been an incomplete edifice for builders since the add on-s to make the shelter more spacious were left fragmentary and jagged, as Riley observed. The sallow moon hiding behind the bungalow and the baying of the tide's non-blustery airstreams turned the deserted terrain eccentric and somewhat mystical.

"So dis' yo' place, huh?" Escobar tucked his numb hands away into the friendly protection of the pockets of his jacket, his words leaving a fogged breath of air after each slipped from his chilly lips, solid green eyes of dark-hued emerald focused on her back.

Anjelika gently impelled the door open as its rusted hinges shrieked. "We're entering it, aren't we?"

Riley only shrugged a single shoulder, entering the hideout behind her and carefully closing the wooden door that looked as if all its wooden panes were ready to collapse. His boots creaked against the floor's stilted panels, eyes roving from object to object that decorated the bungalow.

A grille-vent heater was centered in the middle of the living room which was also the bedroom since there had been a framed mattress with well-designed bedspreads creased over it, a stolen and finely-polished gold lamp positioned on the bronzed table, and the uncountable weapons hung on the side walls of the room to illustrate her uses of destruction she committed gang-homicides with. The silver propelling ceiling fan buffed the warmish air from the heater's waves, fine-furnished yet stolen vases and statues made of glass or other exteriors secreting the walls behind them because of their vastness in number, other small pistols, pocket knives, and daggers lying carelessly along the rugged floors. Two other rooms were the bathroom and kitchen. The inside of this shelter was much more sumptuous-looking than it's outside, which made it a perfect hideout lair.

Riley's eyebrows arched in slight impressiveness. "Pretty nice crib ya' got here, 'dough…"

Anjelika didn't answer him; she was picking up dispersed weapons and perching them in the right place on the walls.

Riley watched her longer, almost uncomfortably since her silence was unnerving. He diverted his attention elsewhere. "So, uh…Ange…I'ma be stayin' here wit you, right? If so, then where am I gon' be sleepin'—" he walked over to the bed, turning around and slowly bending his knees to sit on it—

A bullet just missed his waist.

"D-Don't..." Anjelika swallowed down a stutter and suddenly growled, "**_Don't_** sit on the god damn bed." Her pistol that had been facing him gestured to her feet. "And where you can sleep is on the floor."

"What?! But it's all hard an' shit—"

"You wanna sleep outside?"

"Oh so that's how you treat yo' guests? Offerin' them' a night on the cold, solid ground wit'out even a sleepin' bag and shootin' AT THEM!?"

"You've figured it out all so well, Escobar. Really."

Riley blinked and then smacked his lips, annoyed by her subdued attitude. He rose himself from her bed and decided to stand. "Then damn, you ain't gotta be all…bitchy bout it—"

Anjelika's eyeball darted to the corner of her eye. "Say somethin', Escobar?"

"Didn't say nuttin'." Riley examined the rigid structure of the walls, feigning to be intrigued.

The eye of Anjelika narrowed, though she simply left it as that as she continued arranging weaponry items.

After looking at the red, bristly rugs frequently, he bent down and sat on them with a huff for a sigh. "Yo, Ange?"

"Princess." She told him promptly.

"Why can't I jus' say, 'Ange', fo' short?"

"You do not address royalty by a pet name when they are ABOVE you. You're obviously one of those young, disrespectful thugs who haven't been in this game long enough ta' know about SMITH rules."

_'Apparently, Smiths are cocky motherfuckers who gave themselves such titles, but she's been wholly convinced she's royalty and can't think otherwise, which is some proof she's a little off and naive. Might as well save my ass by playing along'_ "Aiight, aiight…fine, god damn." He sneered at her methods of treating guests. "So, PRINCESS…whas all this about the 'War' you was sayin' earlier?" he leaned forward some, eager to access information he was late to know about.

Without facing him, "Ever heard of 'Bombshell'?"

Escobar simply blinked. "No…if it's a person, then I'm convinced he ain't got any kind of taste fo' good names."

"Bombshell is T-Pain's brother…YOUNGER brother, who came out ta Woodcrest a few months ago. Within a second he had a whole crew with the snap of his fingers, a BIG crew. Guess persuasive speech and murder runs in the family. Anyway, Bombshell is an ex-clan member of the 'Urban Terrorists', and now he's back to place some karma on his oldest brotha because of whatever brotherly-shit that fucked their relationship up. Two alpha thugs buttin' heads to claim the entire city. This'll be the biggest "Street War" there ever was in Thug history…T-Pain's already got his whole army prepared ta take down and SLAUGHTER his brother. Killin' yo' own blood just for STATUS. It's like two three year olds fightin' over an unembellished toy…"

"Yeah, wit guns, grenades, knives, an' whatever that can be used as a hea bustin'-weapon." Riley interfered.

"ANYWAY…there's gon' be niggas FLOODIN' the streets of Woodcrest from the West and South sides…half the city will be destroyed. And it won't matter who wins, because either way, we're damned."

Riley took in all the information now, feeling his nerves tighten with tension and readied alertness. "…Sounds like some Lord of the Rings Trilogy shit…"

To his greatest of all surprises and shock, she had chuckled lightly, though it was very faint and almost inaudible. He cocked his head, examining her silently to make sure he heard right. Eventually he shrugged it off and disposed of it into the category of hearing things, getting ready to lean back against the floor and take sleep's hand into the tunnel of dreams that often formed into long-term nightmares haunted by street-gore.

"Aye, Escobar…?"

At the sound of his name he just glanced at her with both eyebrows lifted.

For a first, Anjelika's eyelid softened immensely. "…How young was that lil' kid that got gunned down by T-Pain yesterday?"

Riley gave the occasional blink or two before he felt a large mass in his chest swell up and take up almost all of his air. Before he could reply, his head hung to face the rugged floors, soon heaving up and standing onto his booted feet, making a brief voyage to the other side of the room.

"TOO young…" his lips motioned softly in a slight mumble, eyelids lowered with a dim tint of jade flashing against all-emerald eyes. "…We jus' got done wit celebratin' his fourteenth birthday last week…" he picked up the mini old-fashioned Roman numeral golden clock that sat so aloofly on the furnished table, tossing it up in the air a few times as if to weigh its firmness.

Anjelika turned her head to watch his actions, and soon the mournful ashen light dimming in and out of his emerald eye from the profile of his face. She could feel his contagious sorrow sweeping a wave of sickness over her usually steeled exterior. It made it even harder since she had witnessed that night…the night painted in blood and pierced by the sound of shrilling bullets. Anjelika's eyelids fell into a lower, feeling almost something such as compassion for him. With a sigh, she walked to him, stopping beside him while his eyes kept to the clock.

"Hey…" she reached her hand up and rested its warmth against the back of his own, lowering the clock, her eyes keeping to the side view of his face.

Riley felt the flick of overwhelming heat in the skins of their hands just for that spark of a second, meeting his gaze to hers now, but the sorrow still dwelling.

And almost as if it were difficult she managed to recite her thoughts, "…I'm sorry you had ta' go through with that…seeing your lil' friend die an' everything…it's hard." The way her eyes had been searching his to prove to him that she was sympathizing, it had convinced him, though after a moment: "But at the same time," she urged with the knit in of eyebrows. "You gotta get used to it and stiffen up. There ain't no time for tears in THESE vandalized streets."

Riley's saddened face darkened into one of a grimace, watching intently as she left his side and tended back to her belongings. With a sneer he shook his head. "Shit, you really do be actin' like an emotionless bitch like they all say."

Anjelika stopped in her steps, rotating her head to him only half way to reveal her eye. "Mind runnin' that by me again?"

"I said you really do be actin' like an emotionless bi—" Riley trailed off for a moment after rethinking his statement, a sudden timid expression on his face. "U-Uh, I mean…" _'Damn it…'_ before he knew it, Anjelika was making her way back to him, though with a knife in her palm while approaching him quickly, himself walking backwards when she was merely a few inches away from him.

"Tell me, ESCO, just WHAT do you know bout me, ASIDE from the lil' news story?" Her eyes flashed with annoyance and twitchy anger, continuing to walk up on him. "Go on, smart ass who thinks it's smart ta' talk back to the PRINCESS who's SHELTERIN' you and offerin' to HELP you before the 'War' begins'!" she shoved him as he jumped back from this, though soon brutally offended by the touch.

"AYE, don't put yo' damn hands on me, HOE!" Riley snarled with the wrinkle of his nose, grimacing down on her stature, which was pathetically stupid, since she had a blade.

With the remark often used to offend the appearance and actions of all women, Anjelika stopped her insults and attacks and stayed quiet as the air almost froze bitterly frosty.

A wan light wavered against her black pupils as she returned his stare, her lips plainly motioning with a quiet yet firm murmur, "…I want you outside ta' night…." She pushed past him with the brushing of shoulders and yanked the door to an opening. "Fucking NOW. Right **_NOW_**."

Riley stared after her, having a look of brief disbelief along his face whilst she simply watched him with an emotionless yet obviously impatient expression, though after recovering, calmly staggered his way to the exit presented to him, slowing his pace as their eyes locked, a flicker of exasperation in his irises as her own narrowed, soon the loud slam of the door closing after him.

Anjelika grumbled a thing or two about the stupidity of "niggas", but stopped in her tracks when she had proceeded to walk over to her bed to stare over the slope of her shoulder at the wooden door behind her, as if unsure of something…knowing of something…

Danger's grim was grinning upon her before turning its intentions on Riley.

**10: 56pm**

"…Ain't this a bitch…?" Escobar muttered under his husky breath, sitting atop the plank board of the front steps with his legs parted, elbows rested on both knees while he stared out into the murky distance of abandoned hills piled with old heaps of metal. The blue light from the moon danced against his olive orbs like hallow ghostly figures underneath his glaring expression.

But it was still strange; the girl would kill a man without question, hesitation, or care. But for some reason, she didn't even threaten to penetrate his heart with a bullet. Was something pinioning her…?

With a heavy sigh of aggravation, he whipped out his cell phone after a snarl and called an automatic number, pressing the cold metal to the rim of his ear, shooting the door of Anjelika's "crib" a glare.

"Yeah?" came the cracked and monotone answer on the other line of the cell phone.

"Ayo Kenyon…" Riley stood onto his feet with the creak of the steps screeching before stepping off the wooden boards and beginning to drag his feet along the rigid ground. "I'ma need you ta' come pick me up, man…" he turned to look back at the hideout behind him, eyes narrowing. "Immediately…"

**Location: Overwrite Boulevard 11:30pm**

"…"

It was disturbingly calm in the Cruiser vehicle after Riley was picked up from Anjelika's lair. Ever so often he had glanced at his friend through the crook of his eye, wanting to speak, though hesitance holding him back. He knew Kenyon was still sore from the death of his little brother, and making any conversation about a subject other than Yohansi seemed fatal and pointless.

"…So tell me why you was ova at the Coastal side of town…" Kenyon mumbled hoarsely, eyes weary as they stayed on the road.

Riley shifted his head to him for a silent moment before fidgeting into his seat and staring back ahead. "Les' jus' say…I saved that Smith chick from a massive gang fight…an' she's lettin' me stay with 'er—"

"Tha Smith that made Compton her first murder-zone?" Finally Kenyon rested his tired gaze onto his companion. "You…knockin' it out wit tha' insane murderer?"

"What?! Naw, naw, nigga! I ain't knockin' out nuttin' wit her!" A sneer raised the side of his lip. "Shit, you can fo'get that! Thas' why I wanted you ta' come pick me up in the first place! She was gettin' on mah nerves!"

Kenyon just gave a helpless shrug, "Aiight…" and put his sights back ahead of him, the window shields of the car swiping the splats of rain away from the glass.

Another irritable silent air passed between them almost coldly, Riley locking his attention on his friend again. "…So…where we goin' exactly?"

And suddenly the air turned as cold as Arctic winter. "Take a mo'fuckin' guess, Escobar." Kenyon rejoined in a hiss of a tone, the tightening of fingers around the leather of the wheel emitting.

Escobar didn't answer him this time, but he did take a guess, and was hundred-percent sure it was accurate. The twenty year old's eyes bolted wider as he just stared at his counterpart, roaring out, "KENYON!" when the tires of the car squealed once the speed meter had reached its ultimate limit.

"T-PAIN'S CRIB, HERE WE COME!" Kenyon raged, his foot pounding on the gas peddle.

Their journey was to reach the other side of Woodcrest, where the warehouse of T-Pain's lair lay, and ambush them with stupidity. But all hopes of even reaching the territory was soon snipped off after Riley failed to convince his companion to turn back around.

"AYE! KENYON!" He slammed the back of his hand roughly into the negro's shoulder, eyes and body turned to the back of the car.

"WHAT, nigga?!"

Escobar squinted between the darkness, ignoring the exasperation in his friend's throat. "Somebody's followin' us…and they been doin' it fo' AWHILE, now!"

Briefly Kenyon eyeballed to rear of the car, and soon looked out of the glass mirror, observing a familiar, black SUV right on their tail.

_'A black Navigator…'_ Riley's mind reflected, and then the red death of Yohansi before he stole a black Navigator flashed in the visual screen of his mind. Without spitting a word to Kenyon, Escobar lunged out and obtained hold of the steering wheel, veering it sideways to get off the road.

"Wha tha FUCK is you doin'?!" The driver jeered as the car screeched while swerving to the left with a hefty turn.

Gunshots crackled and roared, their clanks hitting against the metal of the car repeatedly, Riley and Kenyon still fussing over the wheel as the vehicle reeled left and right.

"GIMME THA DAMN, WHEEL!" Kenyon hollered, giving the steering wheel a full jerk into the right, the car skidding onto the very sidewalk, even scuttling a few street walkers' lives as the citizens screamed and cried for their safety.

"NIGGA, YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TA' DRIVE! GIVE ME THA WHEEL BEFO' YOU KILL US BOTH!" Riley scolded back, ferociously plunging the steering wheel into the left, the car finally veering onto the open street, narrowly missing the many other vehicles on the road as bullets from a machine gun continued to whiz.

Time congealed through mid air once the front and back wheels' disks were blasted off along with the bursting of tires, and the vehicle had suddenly lifted sideways into the air, its side skidding across the street's floor as the screeching of concrete and metal squealed throughout everyone's eardrums achingly. The Cruiser flipped and spun through the streets on its back and side, bringing more cars with it downhill whilst car alarms dinned Woodcrest until finally Kenyon's vehicle rammed into a Powerline Tower, the car turned over on its back.

Though only Riley had remained in the wrecked and smashed-in Cruiser, rich crimson seeping beneath his head with a small lacerate over his russet eyebrow, lips parted with blood drooling down the corner of his mouth and suffering contusions everywhere. He groaned in agony of feeling the glass in the back of his head, his body immobilized. Kenyon, on the other hand, had been tossed a few feet away, spiraled out on the concrete on his stomach. The T-Pain members that had chased them down from the start drove past them with trilling laughter, the police and ambulance sirens next to come…

**RiLeY's Narration**

Aching, dwelling agony…thas' all I can feel in mah body. It felt as if tha world was spinnin' outta control, and a million-ton WHALE was lyin' across mah chest. I didn't know whether I was awake, asleep, dead, or alive, but at tha moment it didn't matter. My whim was fo' this pain ta' go away…I'd rather be DEAD at this very moment than continue feelin' the drums of pain in mah body.

_"Escobar…?"_

Who was callin' me?

_"Escobar!"_

Sounded familiar, too…but it wasn't a thug's voice. At least not a man's, anyway. Even through this anguish crampin' in my body, I could somehow manage to feel a warm, vibrant heat in my eardrum, like someone had been breathin' into it…It felt good, too, compared to what I was feelin' right now. Almost made me feel a lil' calmer.

_"…RILEY!!"_

The voice shrieked into my ear on purpose, makin' me wince between unconsciousness and consciousness, but after a full minute, my eyelids painfully cracked open, but the bright lights drained out my vision fo' awhile. Their illumination was burnin' into mah eyes and head, which made everythin' ache more. Damn, it was too fuckin' bright…but soon enough I got immune to it, an' a vague figure appeared before me, though once again I saw the feathery, glowin' Angel wings. My eyes got wider, which is when mah vision cleared…an' it was jus' Anjelika—wait, ANJELIKA…?!

Well shit, she certainly ain't no damn feathery glowin' angel! She's the devil's bitch! But still...

Her expression wasn't as solemn and pissy as it was normally, but rather I hinted tha light weavin' in an' out of her eyes as she gazed down on me, like she was a bit worried, but her face was still a bit solemn too.

"…Your head straight, nigga?" She murmured to me.

Even though it wasn't said all tender an' sweet, it was tha closet I've heard to it compared to her usually stern and blunt tone of voice.

I didn't necessarily answer her question, 'dough. I wasn't in tha POSITION to. "…Where am I…?" I choked out, voice REALLY hoarse.

"Mah little 'hideout', remember?" She tucked somethin' unda mah head, and it felt like a pillow, so it must've been.

I was in her bed, half-naked since mah shirt was off, but almost COMPLETELY covered with white, red-tinted bandages. There was one aroun' mah head, along with a taped cotton ball dipped in alcohol against mah eyebrow.

"This is what you GET for bein' a lil' bitch an' decidin' ta' walk out wit a temper tantrum." NOW her voice went back to harsh and serious, but I wasn't unnerved by it this time.

Ignorin' tha Princess's frenzy, I asked 'er a stupid question, "…Did chu save me or somethin'…?"

"I FOUND you, almost bleedin' ta' death, an' took you into my own care since the hospital is too far from here." After a long pause, her expression hardened yet softened. "T-Pain, right?"

I just looked up at her, though nodded quietly, stoppin' to wince a lil'.

"Yeah…thas' what I thought." She sat up off tha bed, the weight shiftin'. "I've done all I can for you, so tha REAL treatment you need right now is rest…"

"You'd…let me rest in yo' bed?" I questioned, taken aback some.

"I'm polite to the handicap." She stated almost like she was offended, even if it should've offended ME.

"Where you gon' sleep?" Mah voice was still sore an' almost a whisper, but I was hearable.

"On the floor."

"Why don't chu jus'…sleep wit me?"—And that REALLY came out wrong. I reddened up reeeal quick. "W-Well, you know…what I mean…"

Anjelika jus' stared, an' at firs' I thought she was plannin' to blast me jus' for SAYIN' that. "…I don't trust you." She spat.

I blinked, then frowned in mah own offense. "L-Look, I ain't no pervert, aiight…? I wouldn't even think of touchin' you…! You'd shoot mah head off!" –Psh, I lied bout that. Of course, I wasn't gon' actually lay a FINGER on 'er, but thoughts can't help but cross tha male mind. But like I said, I wouldn't actually touch her. Even I know that's disrespectful…an' even if she wasn't a murderer and mentally fucked, I wouldn't wanna make her feel uncomfortable.

"I'ma sleep on the FLOOR." She made that as clear as day for me. "But I got a couple of things ta' do ta'night, anyway…" She stepped over to the hanger of coats, but slipped into a black hoodie instead, walking over to tha door after wedging two pistols down tha back of her jeans.

My eyes watched 'er until her hand fell upon tha door knob. "Aye…Anjelika--err, Princess?" I whispered, eyes closed tiredly.

"What?"

…A small half-smile curved on mah face. "Thanks…I owe you one."

She was quiet fo' a minute or three, and as the minutes passed, she looked like she wanted to kill me. Tha door slammed right after she left.

**End of RiLeY's Narration**

**/Location: Woodcrest - Alleys/**

"C'MON, 'Princess'! We was jus' havin' a lil' fun!" One thug with his head protected from the chill by a black beanie sat atop the trashcan with a Cuban cigar to his lips and two other men at his sides.

"This is my obligation, not yours..." The only female of the group piped a smoke as she leaned against the alley wall between the men, passing around the blunts.

"Awww stop bitchin', lil' ol' girl..." Another thug leered, squinty eyes scanning her up and down with a drunk laugh. "If mah man here say we was havin' a lil' fun, then we was havin' a lil' fun!"

"Tsssh man, stop wit' all that shit, man..." The third thug puffed smoke through his nostrils, snatching the blunt from the female and thoroughly enjoying it while ignoring her. "'Princess' is upset."

The woman gave him a tired sneer before bumping the back of her head against the wall, "Y'damn skippy _I'm_ upset...I'm _pissed_. You're not allowed to make my job harder."

The bolder thug, the mouthier one, slanted his side against the wall she had her back against, standing beside her, sights focused on her nether regions with the lick of his lips before they roamed back up to her face. "Can I ask you a question?"

"_No._ You'll supply me answers, and I'll produce the questions," she hissed through her teeth with her eyes closed, mostly from oppression of the situation.

"Are you REALLY pissed cuz we 'interfered', or because you spruuung?" he hiccupped, snickering.

"..." She sided her head over to him for a moment, before cracking out a cackle, "Tssshhh," she looked back out ahead of her. "Over my dead body, beaner."

The other two men held the man back as he had attempted to swing at her for the racist comment, though eventually he calmed himself and went back to grinning. She just looked at him in boredom.

"Lemme tell you a lil' somethin', somethin'…" He leaned closer to her earlobe, still beaming. "If we tell him that chu fallin' in looove, then you won't get ta' be tha she-LEADER anymore OR have his partnership, now will ya?" He scoffed into her ear. "So I suggest you know yo' place in a man's presence; you _women_ are beneath us…especially in bed," a tongue lashed out and ran over the shell of her earlobe just for a split second as saliva flicked off the tip of his tongue. He pressed the side of his blade between her legs, threatening to slit her cherry off within one sneaky second.

And in less than a trice itself, his gun was gone from its sheath and a bullet hole had bored its home right in the heart of the El Salvadorian's torso. Eyeballs almost disengaging from their retinas, he looked down, loose, watery red fluids dribbling from his lower lip until the thug eventually crashed with the concrete.

The killer stood there, handgun trembling in her palm with the hate blocking the terror in her eyes.

His two comrades immediately went into wild rage and lunged - constant bangs of a pistol, constant scuffling punches, and constant screams and hollers from both male and female vocals splitting the night in half.

**/Location: Woodcrest Hideout Lair/**

**RiLeY's Narration**

Man, I don't know WHAT time it is, but mah body is still achin' an' restless…but I have mah eyes closed nonetheless. After a frustrated moan, I turned mah head to tha left to look over at tha floor, but I didn't expect ta' see Anjelika there. She musta came in while I was knocked out for a few minutes.

As I watched her in tha darkness, her body was all shiverin' like she was cold on that hard, dusty wood floor that's bad condition made it look like it was comin' apart, but I knew she was asleep. I looked down at mahself and saw the wool blanket placed ova me that she had covered me wit when she was tendin' to mah wounds, and then looked back to her…

Mah muscles began ta' cramp like hell, but I took the blanket wit one hand and bent over tha mattress some, letting it fall over her body so she wouldn't be so cold. Afta another minute, she stopped shiverin' and clutched the wooly blanket over her, like a baby.

...I'm too fuckin' nice...

Tomorrow I'll ask her bout Kenyon...I really hope that nigga's okay. I can't be losin' HIM too.

This has been one crazy-ass day…so I'm jus' DYIN' ta' see what tomorrow'll be like.

I probably mean that literally, too…


	5. The Anjel's Guardian

**_Chapter Four: The AnGeL's Guardian_**

**RiLeY's Narration**

I can't sleep again. The pain's gone to tha back of mah neck and all tha way down to mah spine. I feel like I don't wanna even move now. I glanced ova at the clock through the corner of mah eye,

_**2:00am**_

Damn…mornin' already? Shit...

Wit' a sigh, I found mahself now starin' at the violent she-psycho who was sleepin' all..."angelically" (that even possible fo' her?) right beside me, facin' me at that. I watched her side heave up and down to indicate that she was sleepin' cozily. Throughout this whole day, I ain't eva seen such a peaceful look to her face. I blinked some, wonderin' why tha hell she was sleepin' beside me in tha bed in tha first place. Guess the floor got too uncomfortable for 'er, since her lil' heater DID bust durin' tha night.

But suddenly that lil' "serene" face of hers quickly changed into a pained one, which made mah eyes grow wider. I suddenly saw what I didn't see before - bruises on the bone of her eyelid and her cheek. She started wincin' in her sleep, eyes shut more tightly while clutchin' her stomach like she had been wounded there or somethin'. I mean, tears started wellin' and EVERYTHING.

I ain't gon' lie it scared me shitless cuz I thought somethin' was wrong with her, an' even though I was still in pain, I forcibly wrapped mah arms aroun' 'er to help her realize she was secure here. It was tha only thing I could think of…since, well, you know, I don't want 'er thrashin' out in her sleep all NIGHT ta' keep me up…

"Shhh, calm down, Anjelika…calm down. It's aiight. Ain't nothin gonna hurt you." I whispered, still quite hoarse, though stroking mah fingers against her now-sweaty forehead to….uhh, EASE 'er.

After a minute of rapid breathin', she eventually calmed down like I told her to, a loose tear dripping from her eyelash.

Jus' before I was bout ta' close mah eyes afta a little while of watchin' her, I heard her mutter,

"T-Pain…"

This…made me almost COMPLETELY fo'get about my agony and tiredness as I stared at the Princess widely. "T-PAIN…?!"

She didn't stir, though. She was now deep in sleep…an' mah arm was still aroun' her.

T-Pain? Why tha hell would she be sayin', "T-Pain" in her sleep? Maybe he's been harassin' her too? Alpha Thugs always tryna take out each other, I guess.

I sighed again, but cringed too, since it hurt to even do THAT alone. Once again, I fell into "slumber", unknowin'ly still havin' mah massive arm draped aroun' her.

**Morning**

**End of RiLeY's Narration**

Young Dawn rose with its auburn fingertips outstretching to the cloudless morning and lit up one periphery of the Earth.

Coastal tides were still roaring and clashing with the rigid cliffs that ambushed the left side of the Woodcrest's coast while some of itself crumbled into the seas, while seagulls exclaimed over the blue waters, chasing the warmish airstreams in their expedition for fish and clams or scurrying across shores from the water that met with the sands before retreating back into the bodies of water.

Despite dawn's calls of reality, the two thugs sheltering in the rocky cliff's bungalow continued their siesta. Though there was something foreign when it came down to slumber-positions…

Breathing lightly in each other's gapless air, Riley Freeman "aka" Escobar, had a firm arm of brawns hugged around the she thug's from behind to keep her back close to his broad chest, rough fingers interlocked with her slim ones, and the side of his cheek rested into the crook of her neck where his lips hovered lightly above, allowing him to breathe in the scent and taste of caramel from her mocha-skin. Both of them had their eyelashes rested upon their cheeks, Anjelika having dried tears down her own as well as her back all cuddled up into her "associate's" warm chest. Apparently, Riley had to mend her aches during the night with physical soothes to keep her from thrashing about, so both were unaware.

All hell shall break loose once either one of them wake to Dawn's rose skies.

Escobar muttered something muffled into her nape with his lips fully resting into it, bringing her closer with a humid sigh of tranquility. Though after that release of breath, both of their body's muscles tightened in tension. Everything was silent except for the constant baying of the outside world, until steadily both Riley and Anjelika revealed their emerald eyes to the morning, and slowly rotated their heads to turn and look at each other…

"AHHH!" After Escobar's yelp, came a loud, "THUMP" as he fell onto the hard, wooden floor of the bungalow, teeth grinding and gritted at the immense poignant shooting up and down his spine.

"You god damn PERVERT!" Anjelika accused, though a blush tinging her cheeks as she grimaced down on him, growling in doing so. "That's it! I don't care whether you're hurt or NOT, you ain't sleepin' in this fuckin' bed!"

Riley stared at her through one opened eye. "You tha one who said you was gon' sleep on tha FLOOR. If you had jus' stayed down there, then you wouldn't hafta worry bout that happenin' in tha FIRST place!"

"Oh shut the fuck up, Escobar!" The twenty-year old barked, turning over on her side of the mattress and jerking the sheets over herself after tossing a blanket to him. "YO' 'King sized bed' can be that 'King-sized floor'!"

The Freeman rumbled under his breath a slur before slowly resting his back against the rugs so he wouldn't cause harm to his already maimed limbs, easing his expression once his back was against it.

Anjelika was too busy staring out into the oblivion to go back to rest, eyebrows interlaced in a heavy glower. She closed her eyes agitatedly and glanced over at his restless-self, 'hmph'-ing and forcing herself into dozing.

Alas, in less than an hour…red had formed into a loose lake which seeped into and stained the bristles of the rug beneath Riley's back.

Anjelika sighed and moaned in her rest, annoyed by the sudden commotion on her floor of him crying hoarsely out for her name. "Nigga, do you need a pacifier to shut you up—" Her sentenced trailed into a "dot, dot, dot" as she stared widely at the Freeman who was still lying on his back, teeth bared as he winced and tried to contain some small yowls of agony while the blood continued to ooze. Apparently, and thanks to Anjelika's roughness when she had shoved him off the Queen-sized mattress, one of his lesions had pried itself open.

"An-Ange…" He spluttered on the pronunciation of half her name due to his constant pangs, chiefly trying to alert her attention.

With bulged irises, she swooped down to his level and raised him up by the nape, fingers clutching over the jagged and bloody slit. With a little struggle, she was able to haul him up into her bed despite the gushing red fluids that would stain her beautiful sheets. The she-thug hushed his pained winces with a whisper of encouragement, gently urging for him to look at her while she took responsibility to re-tend to his gashes.

"Riley, look at me…look me in the eye." She slid a palm underneath his chin, jerking it up so his head would at least be at level with her own.

Riley cracked a single eye open at her between a scrunched up face of anguish, though his vocal noises to express it slowly fading. Her emerald eyes full of confidence and potency stayed locked upon his until they slowly wandered down to his cut, both of Riley's eyes eyeing her up and down briefly before just watching her face, mostly because wooziness had whelmed him so.

Anjelika finished applying the medicine and needed equipment to his lacerate after cleaning it thoroughly and wiped the forming sweat from the surface of her forehead with the back of her wrist, looking up at him finally, though with somewhat of a frown.

"They seriously fucked you up, didn't they?"

He didn't reply to her since his head was banging.

She observed his expression a little while longer before pressing a hand into his torso and leaning him back into the pillows. "You gon' hafta stay in this bed fo' AWHILE, now."

Riley nodded now in squeezed shut eyes. "T-This is a motherf-fuckin' bi—" his eyes went slightly wide when her fingers had pressed against his in-motion lips.

"Shut up, will you? If you talk MORE then it'll HURT more, dumbass." She scolded, though lightly, before lifting off the bed with a heavy sigh, coming back from the kitchen with a steaming cup settled in her palm. "I want you ta' drink this."

After taking a whiff of it, Riley cringed back with a sneer on his face. "Wha the fuck is that?"

"DON'T ask what's in it…just drink it." She put the rim of the cup to his caramel lips and tilted it inwards, carefully making sure it flowed into his throat. "This'll help relieve you of tha pain. Helps me sometimes." (A/N: Sounds like drugs XD;; )

"ACK!" Escobar spluttered out the dark, murky substance, choking and gagging, tossing his head from side to side to rid of the repellent tang. "You tryna make me drink a pitbull's 'SHIT' or somethin'…?!" he cried out meekly.

The Thug Princess simply rolled her eyes, setting the mug beside him on the furnished table. "Continue ta' drink it if you wanna get BETTER. Which do you prefer? Long, agonizin' pain, or a brief period of a disgustin' taste in your mouth that'll HELP you?" Afterwards, she withdrew from the bedside.

Before she could leave his side totally, his palm lunged out and caught securely onto her thin wrist, clearing his throat before he spoke, "A-Aye…tha night you f-found me, did you also see a nigga—"

"Who had dark skin as black as night with a shaved head?" she answered plainly.

Riley blinked with his eyes widened, though gave a nod. "Y-Yeah…where is he now?"

"Tha ambulance took 'im in when I came to come an' get you. I don't know if he's dead or alive right now, though…--That answer yo' question, nigga?"

"Uh…" Escobar's eyebrows furrowed backwards at the peeved tone in her vocal box before slowly releasing her from his rough grasp. "Y-Yeah…thanks."

Without a "You're welcome", she entranced into the kitchen with the swooshing of her heavy ebony boots.

Escobar eyeballed her during, and then drew his gaze to the phone sitting on its charger right to the left of him on one of the small lamp-holding tables. With another glance into the kitchen to make sure she wouldn't be prancing into the bedroom/living room any time soon, Riley swiftly snatched up the telephone and dialed a number with his workable fingers.

He waited and waited, eyes darting back and forth to the kitchen doorframe. He was positive Anjelika would bash him for not getting her consent to borrow the phone. A click was heard on the other end; someone had picked up the receiver.

"What….?" A voice responded, drowsy with soreness and heat.

Once more the Freeman cleared the hoarseness sitting in his narrow throat. "Kenyon…?"

"Riley?" The tone slightly perked up, though it was still somewhat as hoarse as his had been. "So you ARE alive…but don't chu know not to be callin' mothafuckas at DAYBREAK? Where are you, man…?"

"Question is, where are YOU?"

"Tha hospital, nigga…watchin' old Gang movies. I thought chu was dead, cuz they said they ain't found you."

"Thas' cuz' tha 'Princess' of that Smith family shit found me befo' the ambulance did. I don't know why she didn't jus' come an' visit me at tha Hospital or somethin'."

"Maybe she wanted ta' take care of you herself cuz…she's in love wit chu?" The tired thug teased, his first joke of decent humor since the night of his younger brother's death.

"Psssh, trash-talkin' me left an' right ain't what I call 'LOVE'…but she did gimme this stuff that takes away tha pain, and kinda revives tha muscles."

"Was it dark and murky lookin', an' tasted like a pitbull's dukey?"

Riley blinked frantically. "Yeah, yeah! How'd you know…?"

"The Docs gave it to me too…betta than painkillers. But mine was in a tube thing."

"Damn, she's good…" Riley muttered, acknowledging the fact that she had stolen the ingredients or the medicine itself from the Doctor's pouch.

"…So you sure you two ain't knockin' it out?"

"YES, nigga, affirmative."

"It eva cross yo' MIND?"

Now Escobar could envisage the weak, but "Kenyon"-smirk spreading across his injured companion's dark face.

"Well…" He hesitated for a moment, knowing it was no use to convert to lying. "Okay, MAYBE…I mean, MAYBE she's fine as fuck—"

The phone gave its last rang of alarm as it was brusquely dispersed out of Riley's palm, pieces plummeting to the rugged floors. Shaken up and almost terrified, Riley gradually began to shift his head to the belligerent Compton Princess, who stood there with her smoking tilted pistol held out before him, though a calm expression to her face.

"Next time ASK me ta' use tha god damn phone, Esco." She snorted, having a pan of steaming water caressed in her free arm.

Riley just blinked widely up at the she-thug, itching to retort to her, but making a first-time sensible solution and keeping his mouth shut with a slight glare resting on his face.

She seated down in front of him and placed the boiling water on the wooden floors, soaking a white cloth in its steamy waters while wringing it out, droplets merging with the hot liquids again. Anjelika turned to Riley with the damp cloth of heat, raising it to the slit in the form of an "X" across his right cheek, which had still been bloodied. Riley cringed back and squeezed his eyes into a taut shut. He brought his rigid fingers to her palm that had embraced the steaming cloth to his cheek, and after the sting of pain became a part of his skin, he steadily released her hand, eyes opening groggily to gaze into her own. She stared right back, though briefly, as if evading something, and gently slid the damp rag down the scar of his cheek, but Riley's eyes hadn't left hers alone.

A couple of firm fingers hoisted up and ran their tips down the side of her nape, feeling down a jagged slice embedded in her skin.

This caused her to pause all her actions and stare at him as if he was suicidal, but he revealed the reason of his actions to her, "You got that recently…when?" His voice was near mellowness, but that was only because he was drowsy.

It took quite awhile for her to react while his fingertips continued trailing over the bruise, but just as she was about to reach up and perhaps rip or break his fingers, a sudden explosion ripped away the interior of the side of the bungalow, fierce winds and enraged inferno lashing out at the two as both of them rolled off the mattress which was soon covered with scattered members of set-aflame wood.

Anjelika flipped over onto her back as watched as the fire eat away at the wood of her home; the flickers of orange sparks reflected in her eye's horror.

Instead of stalling over the activity of the inferno, Riley was concentrated on the fifteen silhouettes standing atop the hill in the distance, daybreak still tinting the sky between that of ginger and indigo. The light within Riley's olive eye shrunk as the grenade launched from that distance came diving down on them, though targeting at Anjelika Smith. Without devoid in making the next move, he threw his already sore body at the "Baltimore Princess" and tackled her down to the floor, the grenade exploding feet away from them, though the heat tearing away at the back of Riley's tank top since he had sheltered his body over hers entirely.

After the explosion stopped whipping its blustering winds, Riley lifted his head from being tucked into the crook of her collarbone to assure himself she wasn't harmed so his action wouldn't be in vain.

"You aiight?" He wheezed, bulged eyes seeking hers.

The "Princess" gave a shaky bob of the head, panting herself.

Escobar lifted himself off of her so he wouldn't be crushing her for hours, and even proffered his hand to help her up, which is something she hesitated to do.

"C'mon! We gotta get tha hell up outta here!" Riley demanded, jerking her with him by the hand to exit out of the front door, which was soon blown into smithereens right before them. "DAMNIT!" He blinked when he felt Anjelika's fingers slip out of his palm. "Ange?!" He spun around, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. "ANJELIKA!"

A beastly-looking thug the mass of an overgrown lizard had her arms pinned to her chest by his single massive one to keep her to him and from making any rash movements, a pistol within the other hand. He jumped through the raging fire that the first explosion had caused and outside of the burning house, jogging to the hill top where the other men stood, still carrying a squirming Anjelika.

The darkest Negro man beamed, holding out his arms. "Give tha bitch ta' me!"

The beast did as told, and flung her to him.

Anjelika unleashed a yelp of surprise at the sudden movement, and raised her head to the tall African-American who was still grinning down on her. Just as he was about to spill his words to her, she dove in and sunk her teeth into his nape. He gave a stammering howl and threw her off him, though that portion of his skin being taken away with her.

She glared up at the thug with eyes saucers of fury, spitting out the fleshy and blood-dripping meat she had torn off. Another man came at her from behind and cracked her jaw with his fist. The "Ice Queen" stumbled and staggered right and left like a drunkard before tripping head-first into the ground. The scent of blood filled her head's weight as she rolled and lolled over in the dirt, coughing out dust and blood. The beastly-man just watched her, arms linked.

"HOLD HER!!" Ordered the first thug with the bleeding nape, having a hand clamped over it to temporarily stop the bleeding.

The beastly thug grumbled and hauled her up by the braid. He seized her arms and forced her to her knees. The restrained woman with a record for homicide wheezed and panted, her nostrils releasing their blood. Drained yet infuriated, she rose her head to the man she had bit so savagely into, her glare straddled by her unraveling cornrows.

"Heh-haha, yeaaaah...." The man grinned as he stood before her with his crotch in her face. "Bout time the 'PRINCESS' bowed, right? Yeah, yeah, baby...." He kneeled down to her level. "So you be **his** lovely wittle whore** he** lusts for so badly to have you in **his **bed er'night." He let his eyes run over every curve of her body. "I can't blame tha bastard…I seen a lotta stallions, but shit you workin' wit a lot, Ice Queen." He rested a palm on her breast before groping hard until the fabric squeezed against the flesh.

The woman tried to bite his fingers off with her bloody mouth, which even caused him to flinch back in utmost but brief fright, though he shook this away with a hearty laugh and drew closer to her.

"Do you know who I am? C'mooon…take a guess." His fingers admired her breasts, thumb giving a massage to her elongated nipple.

Anjelika spat on the corner of his mouth. He wiped his mouth frantically before slapping her upside the head, ordering them to toss her into the dust. The thugs yanked out their weapons as Anjelika flopped on her back in agony, all aiming to blast her into kibbles and bits.

But out of the blue, came unleashed miasmas of black smolder that fogged the terrain. The thugs coughed and hacked as the haze clouded their consciousness into stupor. Anjelika had been exposed to the dreadful haze as well, but was still on her knees as tears of pain clogged the corner of her eyes from the contracting muscles in her esophagus. Though someone hauled her up into their arms and dashed out of the smokebomb's air. She raised her fatigued gaze to her savoir and whispered his name exhaustedly, though draped her arms around his neck to rest her head against his broad torso.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o

_'It shouldn't be too much further, now…'_ Riley's mind encouraged, his body still healing itself from its earlier abuse, heaving the young woman up into his arms more firmly to keep a tight hold on her so she wouldn't slip.

They were just in the most tarnished parts of Woodcrest, where abandoned housing slept for the years they had been vacant. Since it was still about Five o'clock in the morning, the polluted and cluttered territory was misted by billows of thick fog. Soon one specific brick-walled building that had been crumbling to its end was locked on Riley's radar.

"Mmm…"

Riley blinked, staring down on the girl below his collarbone, seeing as she was stirring in his carry.

"Riley…?" Anjelika mumbled into his cotton tank top, finally lifting her head from its throbbing headache. "Where are we goin'…?"

"To mah own lil' hideout." He noted her, eyes ahead of his way now, and trying to bare the ache hitting his shins. "It was once mah Gang's lair, but T-Pain annihilated them too…as you prolly know."

She tilted her head to see the building they were approaching, and then began observing their positions, her head still full of giddiness. "Pu'...put me down, foo'."

"Nope." He confirmed calmly, though solemnly.

"I can WALK, an' I don't need you carryin' me…I ain't a weak lil' dame…" She wriggled in his grasp, though all he did was heave her in more to tighten his grasp on her back and legs.

Since "The Game" were all murdered except for Riley himself, he didn't need to perform the code knock that would grant him access to the hideout's darkness. He came here frequently to slumber, perhaps to even sleep and eat. But other than that, he wandered the city elsewhere. Escobar kicked open the door as a large amount of crumbled dust descended upon them, but ignoring this, casually walked inside despite the she-thug's squirms and dropped her on the only bed in the still clandestine and now empty hideout. Crushed glass from past beer bottles and filthy soot stuffed in corners to accompany spider webs, and only two couches with a single coffee table in the center is about all that represented furniture.

"Are you hurt?" queried Riley, bending down to the bedside.

She did not answer, but rather looked away with a quiet snarl, the black blood dripping from her nostrils and into the cleavage between her chests.

Riley's eyebrows knotted in to express his aggravation of her attitude, and exited the bedroom without a word, soon sauntering back in with a wet rag material. He sat beside her, the weight sinking, and glimpsed at her while rolling up the wet textile material, and then bent in to wipe the red fluids running down her chest. Her harsh hand smacked his hand away, and he jumped as if he had been sprayed like a kitten, staring into her eyes of anger. But with an annoyed half-smirk, Riley leaned in once more, just to be slapped back again. Agitated, he simply threw the rag at her face, Anjelika giving a temporary shocked expression at the rough fabric hitting her cheek and then falling into her lap, and to return the favor, she tossed the wet cloth right back at him.

Escobar leaned over and held the wrinkle in the bridge of his nose with two fingers, snickering quietly at nothing in particular before directing his gaze on her with his palms held out some. "Look, do ya' want me ta' help you or not?"

The woman's glower only deepened, yet she snatched up the rag anyway and began cleaning the blood from her nostrils, mouth and torso, watching him like a paranoid cat.

Riley expressed a sigh and tipped backwards. "So…do you know who those niggas were that demolished tha hideout?"

She stopped for a moment to stare down into the cloth, almost nervously running her eyes up to his and then burdening them back into the cloth. "…'Haven't a fuckin' clue."

"Ah-huh…" Riley just watched her every move, eyeing her as if trying to find something to convince him that she spoke of integrity. "Well look…I know dis place ain't as humble and fancy as yours was, but this is where we gon' hafta stay." Progressively, he began to stand to avoid cramping ache in his body again. "You can have tha' bed…"

"Wait…!" she bellowed lightly, fingers embracing around his rougher palm.

Riley stopped for her, cocking his head in inquisitiveness of her call. "Yeah…?"

Anjelika stared up at him for what seemed forever, though her eyes occasionally roaming from left to right as if to be searching for something long and lost…words, perhaps? Her mouth opened and keyed up Riley, but not a single word had freed, so she closed it, looking back to the bed quickly. "Y-You can have the bed…you're still sore an' whatnot."

Somewhat thwarted and expectant of a "thank you", he shook his head. "We got couches out there, Ange…I mean, _Princess." --_he hated the address, but he didn't want his head chopped off from the threat of her conceit--"So I'ma be fine. If ya' need anything, then you can always come an' get me." With that, he slid out of her lingering grip and turned to the door.

"E-Escobar?" She stammered.

There was a first time for everything, because she had never stuttered on his name…like she was coy or hesitant to call for him.

One last time, he turned around for her.

And once again this time, she prolonged on her statement, and mumbled an embittered, "Nevermind…"

More disenchanted than he had been, he finally turned to leave her be in her own pool of silence.

**RiLeY's Narration**

I SAVED her ass, first, from a god damn grenade, second from all 'dem thugs, an' risked MAH life fo' her…an' I don't get a single "Thank you"? Tsh, don't I feel special…

It was either she was jus' pissy ova her burned down hideout, or was too embarrassed ta' say it.

I sat there across the couch, arms folded behind mah head, gazing up at tha crumblin' ceilin'.

Me an' tha Game…we shared some good times up in dis crib. Slick, Quickdraw, Tanker, Boss, Ray…I'm still missin' those niggas ta' death. An' I ain't gon' forget about you either, Yohansi. _sigh_ "50 Cent" neva said nothin' bout losin' all yo' homies in tha Thug Life too. Now all I got right now is Kenyon, an' this wannabe Barbie-Princess girl…if she even CONSIDERS me apart of her life. Why'd I get engaged wit this "deal" wit her, anyway?

"Ahem…"

I jerked up as if to take a damn, "Ahem" as a threat, but calmed mah senses to jus' see Anjelika.—"Wait, Anjelika--er, I mean P-Princess….?" I blinked rapidly, takin' full notice of her style-change.

Her CLOTHES didn't change - we ain't got hoe clothes here, but it was her hair that was a trip.—Cinnamon-lookin' hair flowing to 'er thighs in wet glossy curls, some of her scalp parted to one specific side, side bangs and shit. She musta used the bathroom sink to wet her hair.

I was STRAININ' not ta' blurt, " You fiiiine"—like the eight year old nigga I STILL was at some points, even if her hair did still look a bit frizzy and fucked up an' shit.

But ta' sum it all up, she looked hundred times sexier than normal…but mah honest thought at this very moment, was…somethin' a corny, romantic pussy-nigga would say. So I'ma jus' let cha'll take tha hint and guess what it was.

I was still blinkin' like an idiot with slightly bulged eyes, eyes scannin' her up an' down. Well she DID look totally different. She looked like an actual woman, and not some ghetto hoe. She had tha' same green eyes that sealed up like a hundred ice-bergs.

"Uhhh…you…changed yo' hair."

"Yup…" She was busy lookin' aroun' at the hideout, pickin' up old dusted pictures that some of the members had left on the table.

I was still buggin' out, though. Like somethin' had awoken me. Damn this Ice Queen Smith. I could tell she used her assets to distract, not to impress.

It was silent for awhile as she jus' walked aroun' tha place, pickin' up random things to examine. "…This place needs some good cleanin'."—Like she was offerin' ta' do it.

I jus' nodded, all mah anger from the previous events havin' faded. Though suddenly she turned back to me, walking over and sitting down right beside me.

"…You probably HOT right now, huh?" she asked me, lookin' almost remorseful in tha face. But I knew what she was talkin' about.

I stared at her fo' a looong time, and then looked away, a bit pissed by the question, but not the old situation. "Not anymore, no."

"I don't usually do this, but…"

Mah head hadn't turned to her, an' fo' some reason, she didn't respond afta her little sentence-trail either….not…verbally anyway.

I froze up almost instantly when I felt a familiar pair of lips on mah cheek, where the scar had been. Mah whole body tensed up, and that area suddenly became warm, an' the sting of the scar no longer hurt. It only lasted a couple of seconds, though, until she eventually pulled back, and a "smack" from her lips leavin' mah skin.

"Thanks…for tryna 'protect' the 'Princess'." she whispered against tha cheek, warm breath brushing against it.

Shit, I neva thought I'd have ANY part of her against mah skin…an' I ain't gon' lie jus' that CHEEK-kiss felt good. Not sayin' I would MIND…but at tha same time, I ain't tryna get blasted.

Finally, when I turned to look at her, she was already standin' up from tha couch. I watched her walk towards tha bedroom, gettin' JUST about ready ta' smile goofily, until she exclaimed, "But DON'T be thinkin' you gon' keep gettin' little 'kisses' from me AGAIN now, _boy_."

I blinked, an' mah smile automatically faded wit' a sweatdrop.

Not like I was thinkin' that ANYWAY…or feelin' a lil' tingly, or gettin' a lil' dazed from it…PSH, because Escobar don't love hoes.

Tsh, women…


	6. SexyBack

**_Chapter Five: SexyBack_**

**Location: Woodcrest - Unknown Hideout**

Creaking and sighing with every pressure of the booted foot, the wooden panes of the hideaway lair's feeble floor was gradually coming apart. Indifferent about the situation, Riley Escobar continued wandering around the building alone until he eventually laid himself out across the couch, gazing up at the ceiling with a vexed breath of discontent, annoyed that Anjelika Smith had been absent for so long. She had proclaimed to go out and retrieve a mattress to replace the one as soft as a boulder in the only bedroom, but three hours had passed.

'_Man, this girl needs ta' hurry UP…'_ He knee was hopping unstoppably, an apple held to his teeth to occupy his hunger.

Was he concerned…?

It was just then a loud bump excited him, and he sprung up to see the Smith stuffing a queen-sized mattress through the doorway, dragging the entire sleeping pad over her head and carrying it into the bedroom, soon coming back out and grabbing the cherry-wood pieces of its frame.

_'Did she rob a damn BED…?_' Riley plainly monitored her every move until she began to move back towards the bedroom. "What took you so long?" His deep, yet naturally enthralling voice inquired, standing off the couch, face scrunched up in seriousness.

Anjelika stopped her walking, her head turning so she could look up at the man. "It's a bit hard tryign to find a good mattress on the sidewalk and then buying a few stolen pieces of a bed frame from the right dealer." She began walking back to the bedroom.

Riley stared for a second or three and followed to the doorframe, leaning on against it as he watched her assemble the bed on her own; a demonstration of her independence.

"I thought somethin' had happened or some shit." Escobar admitted, to some extent discomfited with the confession, though this somewhat muffled as he took another bite of his fruit.

"Ohhh, so let me get this straight…" Anjelika looked his way, a mocking gleam in her eye along with the smirk to match as she sat on the floor, folded bed sheets in her lap. "YOU were worried about ME, huh?"

Riley's brow furrowed. "I didn't say THAT."

"Mm-hm…" she stood with the support of her feet, spreading the covers over the bare mattress she had stolen, neither of them saying another word to distract her from her personal duty.

He analyzed her when she walked past him into the living room, which created a comment from his smirking lips, "You sho' are independent, huh?"

"Hope you ain't been oblivious to the obvious for THAT long, boy." Leaning down to pick up the bed spreads contained in their plastic covers, Riley yet again couldn't help but ogle her since she was not looking his way.

It was just for that moment he got a thorough scan of her shape, or simply just the juicy apple-shaped bottom (like his own red apple) with the jeans clung ever so tightly to the phat underneath. Though once she stood upright with her attention still going through the plastic-wrapped bed spreads, his eyes panned down into her cleavage.

Small in the waist, curvy in the hips and breasts.

Both of his brown brows rose fully on his forehead; such a head-turner she was to make men turn into idiots. Black women - more over Brazil women, were so hot-bodied. A sudden rush of lust streamed through his veins for a quick second, though began to gradually array between his thighs as thoughts roamed his mind, continuing to bite his apple and lick its taste off his lips. He was, after all, a man, and he suddenly hungered to touch her, an innocent grope, no? Providentially though, she snapped him out of his yearning stare.

"Here's one for the couch…" she tossed him some sheets, him blinking down on them and gulping down a full piece of his apple due to the abrupt reply. She brushed past him with the swoosh of her long hair strands following behind her, the bedroom door suddenly closing with a slam, forcing Riley into the perplexed blinking mode.

After about five minutes or much more, Riley was knocking his knuckle against the rigid old bedroom door, shoulder leant against it. "Ange--er, P-Princess? Aye, we gon' hafta leave…I need ta' go an' see someone right quick."

"Then why don't you just go without me, smart ass?"--Ohhh that snappish flirty attitude fired him at some points.

Was she a minx between the new bed sheets she bought?

"HELL naw!" His eyebrows creased backwards, yet inwards all in one expression. "What if someone blows UP this hideout too cuz YOU in it? I ain't bout ta' let that happen."

There was an awkward silence behind the other side of the door, before it eventually flew open. Riley almost fell off his balance since he had the side of his body against it. He gazed from her hugged bosom to her face quickly with slightly widened orbs.

"In OTHER words, you WORRIED about me?" Anjelika smirked, one of the first signs of amusement she had given so far, standing in the doorway.

"Psh, stop DREAMIN', girl." Riley waved it off with negligence, wandering over to the front door.

"AH-AH!" Anjelika warned, suddenly scurrying over, and walking out of the doorway first, nose upturned. "LADIES, first. Learn some manners~."

"Shit, you ain't no lady if YOU don't even know no god damn manners." He muttered, though earned a stiff, "WHAT?!" from her vocal cord and responded like a whipped dog. "Nothing, dear!"

**Location: City of Woodcrest**

"Take THIS, George Nelson aka BABYFACE (Old, immensely popular bank-robber)! BANG! BANG! KABLAM!"

Bullets zoomed through the smoggy air of the tarnished, gang-filled streets of present-day Woodcrest, two seven year olds scampering down the pavement with genuine handguns, fully polished, fully loaded, and stolen from their father's pouch of weaponry materials. They giggled or screamed, both luckily having jagged aim when they launched the bullets from their barrels like those old black and white gangster movies.

"AYE!" Riley exclaimed with a duck as a bullet merely grazed his scalp as he had been quietly roving the avenues with. His wide eyes were forced to the two hispanic children as they sprinted past them, but Anjelika had grabbed one by the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards, the other stopping to gasp out his brother's name.

"Just what in God's name do you think you're doing?! Are you loco?! Give me THIS, damn it," She hissed like a hysterical mother, snatching the revolver out of the little boy's tiny palms, emptying all the remaining bullets and letting their chrome surface clatter against the cement, and soon turned her angered gaze to them. "You could've KILLED each other with these!"

He frightfully stared up into her green eyes, fingers tying and wringing around the end of his long white t-shirt. "B-B-But Papi—"

"There's no 'but' for this kind of SITUATION," She speared his chest with her finger while kneeling down to level heights with him. "If I ever see you aroun' town carryin' these weapons, we're going straight to your madre so she can break your tails, you hear me?"

He nodded wildly, tears in the corner of his big, puppy-doggish eyes.

Riley observed with a blink or more, but then folded his arms to join into her conversation. "EXACTLY, cuz lil' brats like you shouldn't be even HOLDING a gun let alone shootin' them! Fuckin' kids is CRAZY!"

The two brothers looked at each other.

"Heeeey…" one spoke, the one who had not been yanked back, who was now pointing his pistol up at Anjelika with a dropped jaw. "...You that...that SMITH chick, ain't chu? Daaaaag…ER'BODY know YOU! That mus' be TIGHT, havin' niggas know' yo' name an' shit, even if they tryna kill you!" he eyed her down, eyes widening briefly and occasionally until they focused on her chest. "DAMN…you really DO have a pair of bazookas—"

His mouth was clamped over by his brother's hand, the little whiny voice muffled behind the palm. "E-Excuse his l-language, he's just n-neva since a senorita such as yo'self." He grinned nervously with a slight sweatdrop, while Anjelika just raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

To settle her calmness, she unleashed a shuddered sigh, looking between both boys with serious eyes, hands placed on their lean shoulders. "Look…I know the rappers up on that big screen display thug life like totin' pistols is the best thing in the world, but it's NOT. Because when you get shot, ain't no bitches come out, no music, NOTHIN'."

One of the Hispanic twins glanced at his own pistol before looking back to the woman with a curious blink.

"What you little kids don't get is that these thugs aren't living a dreamland. They're living in a war-zone of life and death. You know why? Because NO ONE cares about you in the street, and EVERYONE is out ta' get you…if you are KNOWN, then it's a greater and easier advantage for killers to find you, an' MAIM you. It's every thug for THEMSELVES. My own father taught me that. Now if ol' boys see you totin' THESE pistols," She took the revolver from the other brother's hand to demonstrate."They'll think you're part of a god damn gang, and will wanna take you out, because you are disrespecting everyone around here by carryin' this shit aroun' like it's a toddler's toy. Thugs don't get rich, not unless you're 50 Cent, and even then, niggas want your head. So I'm givin' you a little advice," Her eyelids gentled, and her tone went solemner, though softer as well. "Cherish childhood as a CHILD. If you value life, then stay outta tha streets before it's too late…before you turn into one of THEM."

She nudged a thumb into the direction of a gang, where two men were duking it out over a game of dice in the center.

Instead of adding more, Riley simply continued to observe her, though in slight admiration to her words of advice instead of encouragement. He looked down to the boys, who were glancing at their feet in pounding notions, heeding the words of the questionable female.

"Now run back home before your Papi and Mami finds out what you Diablos took." She gently scooted them on, and with eyes full of confusion, they did as told and ran along home.

Once there were clearly on their way to the vanishing point, Riley stepped to Anjelika somewhat closer, jade irises glancing at her, though reaching up to scratch the side of his nostril some. "Teh, usually tha most popular niggas be braggin' bout how GREAT their life is…I wish I got that talk when I was littler." He recounted the time of the Gangstalicious encounter back when he was only eight years of age, clueless about the world and its downfalls.

"Well if you noticed, I'm not a 'nigga'." Her eyelashes fell on her cheeks, and she half-smirked, continuing to walk down the tainted streets.

The hustlers on the sidelines eyed her between suspicion and the average-male lusting, but the older men, aware to the street-gossip, eyed her with almost red-eyed glares. Although no one was certain about her appearance since there had been rumors and different descriptions back and forth, the descriptions given so far were still close to the real thing - which happened to be parading down the street with Riley.

With the intent stares on her and the rising conflict hanging like thick smog in the air, Anjelika was cautious to keep her head down, but one black male was a little too steep in lust as a wolf-whistle was howled.

"Damn lil' mama, how you get all that in them tight clothes?" He grinned with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, comparing her over, only being about sixteen.

A vein clenched the skin of her temple, but she maintained control to not reassure everyone's suspicions, and continued walking even if the man standing ahead of her path, leant against a streetlight pole.

Riley's eyes narrowed at the slightest.

"I don't mean ta' be rude, but I ain't bout ta leave you 'lone. So why don't we jus' head back ta' mah place an' I'll help take them tight clothes offa ya' jus' so I can park mah bike up in that big ol' trunk o' yours?" His fingers grabbed a handful of her backside's meaty cheek as she passed him by and the grope was enough to set her paranoid reflexes off into stabbing him, until an "OOF!" was yowled.

With the turn of her head, she gazed down at the teenager spiraled out on his side with a bruise denting his cheek.

"Didn't yo' 'Mama' eva teach you how ta' RESPECT a woman?" Escobar growled down on the youngster, eyebrows wrinkled down on the slope of his forehead as he sized him up. "Lil' punk..." saliva was spat out of the side of his mouth and onto the wincing and trembling boy, walking back to his 'companion'. "You aiight?" From his mouth, it came a little more humorous than totally concerned.

But she didn't take the care to frown, but to blink with bewilderment splashed all over her face. "I...yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Good, then les' get outta here before MORE niggas start gettin' BOLDER wit' chu." Riley took a step onward, and then continued to walk off, Anjelika following with a quizzical though invisible question-mark above her head.

It only took a few more minutes of silence to bring her to finally ask him: "Why'd you deck 'im like that for me…?"

With the slightest motion, he glanced at her sideways. "Well, I mahself ain't one to go aroun' gropin', whistlin', or rapin' women, so I can't help but get a lil' frustrated when I see otha niggas doin' it aroun' me or somethin'. Niggas who do that are stupid. I's like - okay, you really ARE tryna get at the girl, but you hollerin' at the bitch and complimentin' her tits. Since when did that make women come kissing your feet? Never. I's common sense. But, most of tha time I ignore it."

"So why didn't you ignore it this time?"

"Well shit, I'd be some dick if I DIDN'T react. I ain't tryna have you MO' angry at me. If niggas gon' be hollerin' at chu cuz you fine," his eyes couldn't help but glance downwards briefly before she caught him "—uh, good lookin', I might hafta do it more often." He grinned timorously, Anjelika about ready to wipe out the fact that she had her pistol on her, but stopped herself, and left it as is.

She soon gazed at the profile of his face for a trice or three, and then back in front of her pathway, expression expressionless.

"So…Ange—I mean, Anjelika…I-I mean, PRINCESS." Riley massaged the back of his neck out of slight apprehension since Anjelika continued to walk while he had unintentionally slowed his. "Is there a… 'Mr. Satan's Compton Anjel' by any chance?"

She stopped, standing straight and looking over her shoulder to meet his stare, inquisitive brow hoisted. He meant no harm by the request for information, but once she began to advance closer toward him, his anxious nerves tightened into that of tension. The air squeezed between their lips even seemed stifling once she had gotten close enough and decided to graze his enthralling eyes with hers silently before a smirk reached her lips.

"Why? Do you, Riley Escobar Freeman, believe you have a chance?" her eyes narrowed mockingly with the same smirk.

Riley gazed from the bronze glow on her tender-looking lips and up to her eyes again, a gulp slipping down his tight throat. She brushed right past him afterwards, leaving him in a series of confusion before turning to watch her with a frown.

"I'm not taken, and I'm not taking any resumes for the job." She straightened out sassily, going on with her walk. "The idea of being owned...disturbs me."

"...Bein' in a relationship don't mean you're being OWNED, it means you're in a partnership engagement, not an ownership." Riley frowned some, and then followed her, pretending as if his stolen pair of brand new shoes were briefly interesting. "Aiight, and if you WERE looking one day...well, SOME day…what, "summary of qualifications" for the résumé would you ask for?" An awkward smirk was on his alluring face, looking back up at her.

Anjelika eyed him down some, but then looked away with a huff for a sigh. "Alright, well…he'd definitely have to have a brain, a witty and sharp one."

Secretly and unknowingly his mind was mumbling, _'I can be witty an' sharp…'_ Though he blinked, trying to ward off the sudden notion, wondering "What the hell" he was thinking.

"And of course, have that sex appeal every woman wants…" She smirked some. "Tough-skinned, respectful to his woman, responsible, compassionate, but also a BOSS, an' not a toy soldier." She glimpsed at him slyly, and finally Escobar caught on.

"Aww thas' jus' COLD." He whined a tad. "I ain't no 'Toy Soldier'!"

But he couldn't help but think back to her reputation. Was she truly attracted to the men she had messed with, or was she playing some kind of sick game with them because a 'boss's' life was easy to cut off?

For a first or a second, Anjelika laughed, "Well i's FUN calling you that." She softened her humor to chuckles.

"Well you sho' are lightenin' up a lil' more, huh?" A gradual grin spread on Riley's face.

Suddenly that smile of amusement diminished, and she switched back to solemnity. "Don't count on it."

Riley only sweat dropped.

"Where are we going ANYWAY?" Her brows lifted when she saw him amble past her.

"To tha Hospital. I need to check up on mah nigga Kenyon." Riley's own mood went a bit serious.

"Then why the hell—AYE!" she struggled to catch up to him as he suddenly began sprinting off, calling out a playful, "Hurry up!" since the Hospital building was only a few feet away in the far distance.

**Location: Woodcrest Woodcrest Hospital: Room #246**

"Yeah, nigga, yeah! WOO—OW! Son of a bitch…!!" Kenyon was busy cheering on the Super Bowl Game in his hospital bed, tangled in sheets and blankets, though frequently and absentmindedly forgetting he was still wounded in some areas.

A light knock paced against his door, and a deep voice tagging along after, "Kenyon?" The visitor peeked his head out from behind the door. "I's me, Riley."

"Esco?" Kenyon bobbed his head up, a steady beam lifting on the corner of his lips as his friend slid inside. "So ya' came ta' see me FINALLY, huh?"

"What choo mean 'finally'? I JUS' called chu this mornin'." Riley chuckled, Anjelika walking in after him.

Kenyon's grin turned to a parted line with briefly bulging eyes at the sight of the Smith, the beam soon returning. "U-Uh, good mornin' or afta-noon, yo' Highness." He grumbled to Riley on the side, "Aye mo'fo' why the fuck you bring her up in here?!"

"Ain't you tha one who hollered at me a couple of weeks ago?" She crossed her arms, brow arched, not seeming too flattered.

"Ehe, n-nice seein' you again too."

She just rolled her eyes, and Riley, shortly after turning to the door.

"Where you goin'?" asked Anjelika with a blink.

"To tha bathroom."

"Plannin' on comin' BACK?" Anjelika was heading down the hill of grilling him.

"YES. Damn…" with a "Psh", he exited the room, slamming it shut.

There was a bit of quietness afloat around the room on buoyancy force, until Kenyon broke its chain with an anxious tone. "…So you an' Escobar ain't knockin' it out?"

Anjelika looked upon him in a blank stare. "NO! I don't even WANT that nigga! He gets on mah nerves!"

"Then why you wit 'im?"

It took her sometime to answer, but, "Because I keep to my word, and I always pay debts, no matter how repulsive the person is."

"You make it sound like it's yo' actual DUTY! Like you HAVE to do it…"

"Somethin' like that…" Her eyelids lowered on her combat boots, zoning out somewhat.

"Well…that nigga's twenty-first birthday is gon' be comin' up in a few weeks." Kenyon closed his eyes, shifting in his hospital bed.

Anjelika raised her head slightly, blinking with the tilt of her head. "When's his birthday?"

"April 19th, Aries."

"Assertive, easily-angered, an' action-oriented?" Anjelika blinked more curiously now.

"Yep."

"…That's MY birthday."

Pause.

Kenyon stared at her, pupils dilated for a moment. "An' y'all do LOOK alike TOO…y'all twins?!"

"...You are an IDIOT." Anjelika didn't react, but turned sideways to face the door, gazing out into the wood in intent thought until her lids sunk half way into her eyes. Both popped back once the door suddenly swooshed open, revealing a yawning, tired Riley Freeman, who strolled into the room and sealed the door shut behind him, walking into the center of the room only to glance between the two in brewing puzzlement.

"Why's everybody lookin' at me like that?"

"Ehe, nothin', nigg', nothin'." Kenyon beamed uneasily, Anjelika clearing her throat.

"Listen, I'ma be outside when you ready." Anjelika strolled past him with the brushing of bare shoulders, Kenyon watching her hips from behind sway with a clogged gulp, the door clicking after her egress.

"Pretty girl, man…she ain't so psycho in person."

Riley looked to his companion with the arched brow. "Since when was YOU sayin' shit like 'pretty girl', Ghetto-trash Romeo? An' what about Keisha, huh? She'd beat you wit' a fryin' pan if she heard you say that."

"Shit, she broke up wit me ova tha phone dis mornin'. Said I was gettin' into much gang shit, an' she didn't wanna be aroun' violence since thas' mah middle name. Psh, so much fo' gettin' married an' havin' three Kenyon Juniors."

Riley shook his head some in response to it. "Hoes…why you think I'M swearin' 'em off?"

"Maaan thas' jus' yo' excuse for bein' a virgin." He broke out into a few dozen hearty laughs and a pattern of chuckles.

"Man SHUT UP!" Red tinged on his cheeks like the sunset sky, Riley folded in his arms, a trickle of embarrassment running down his body. "I'm jus' waitin' fo' tha right girl, aiight? A girl that ain't got STDs!"

Kenyon gestured his head silently in the direction of the door, where Anjelika had left from, a widespread grin plastered to his chocolate brown face. "...So you wanna fuck her?"

Riley rotated his head to the door as well, though not catching on as quickly. "…Tha door? —OHHH…HELL naw, nigga! You still on mediation or some shit?! 'Sides, I ain't in desperate need fo' anyone right now, an' it CERTAINLY ain't gon' be no crazy ass female who got a history of NEUTERING niggas. She might have STD's too!"

"Oh stop FRONTIN', nigga! You can't TELL me you don't be gettin' horny in SPITE of that!" His eyebrows creased all the way back on his forehead to express his disbelief. "I ain't sayin' get in a relationship wit 'er like she was with them niggas. Just fuck her! You ain't no big-time nigga, so why would she wanna kill YOU of all thugs?"

"Gee, THANKS."

"Unless you gay or somethin', but soon enough, y'all prolly gon' be fuckiiin'. CHICA CHICA BOW WOW! UMF UMF UMF!" He grinned.

"EUGH!! Keep visualizin' it, perverted nigga." Riley turned his head away, peeved, though childishly flushed, since the recent desire had been accumulating lately.

"Ehe, then time ta' change tha subject…" Now the black pair of brows furrowed down on Kenyon's forehead. "There was a task that I was supposed to do ta'day…but I need you ta' help me."

Riley grimaced at his friend, though with confusion. "What task we talkin' bout NOW?" _'For some reason, I got a baaad feelin' i's bout T-Pain…'_


End file.
